A Family Torn Asunder
by cindy123
Summary: Dean's hurt and John blames Sam. Will Dean awaken to the family he knew or will the Winchesters be forever broken. Hurt/limp/guilty!Dean hurt/limp/distant!Sam Angry/guilty!John. Rating for some semi gory scenes and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Here is my new story. A bit different from what I've done before. Hope you like it. (This is a repost of chapter 1 as half of it didn't post the first time around!)**

**Cindy**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that you recognize from the show. **

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**Just outside Gresham Oregon-Thursday, April 22, 1999**

"Sam! Look alive, boy," John Winchester snapped at his youngest son, the fifteen year old flinching at the harshness in his father's tone.

"Yes, sir," Sam replied softly, shooting a glare at his older brother when he chuckled in amusement beside him.

"I don't want any of your screw ups, Samuel. Keep your head out of the clouds, or wherever the hell it is you go when you space out! There is no room for errors on this hunt. People are dying and we need to stop this thing before anymore die," John said, his dark eyes narrowing on Sam, daring the teenager to argue.

"I won't screw up, Dad," Sam answered sullenly. "I wasn't the one who screwed up the last time," he whispered under his breath as he lowered his eyes to the ground.

"What was that, Sam? You got something to say?" John shot, anger filling his eyes.

"No, sir. I didn't say anything, sir," Sam said, his eyes shifting sideways to his silent older brother.

"Good. Now, I want you two to take the path to the right. Go about two hundred yards in and take up separate positions, not too far apart. I'm taking the path to the left. I'll try to lure the bastard toward you. Between the three of us, we should be able to take the sucker out," John instructed, eyeing his boys critically.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, speaking for the first time since they had exited the Impala and left it a mile back at the visitor parking area, the twenty year old standing straight, ready for the hunt to begin.

"Sam? Did you hear me, boy?" John spat, his patience growing ever thinner with his youngest son.

"Yes, sir. I heard you," Sam answered, his hazel eyes meeting his father's dark brown ones.

"Then answer me like your brother did. I'll not be disrespected by your insolence!"

"You didn't give me the chance, Dad…"

John had Sam by the collar before either brother knew what was happening, the infuriated man pulling the much smaller boy up until his feet barely touched the ground, Sam grasping his father's forearms to stabilize himself.

"Don't you dare talk back to me, Samuel! I don't care if you didn't want to come on this hunt. I don't care if you had tests at school. That isn't important. The only thing that is important is you doing as you're told with no smart ass remarks…you hear me boy!?" John hissed, shoving Sam away, the boy stumbling and nearly falling on his backside.

Sam gazed up at John through chocolate fringe, tears threatening to well and nodded. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," he said softly, his cheeks burning as they reddened.

John eyed his youngest, shaking his head and silently wondering how he could be so different from his older brother. "Good. Now, keep your eyes open. Wendigos are tricky. They can be on top of you before you even know what hit you. Have your flares ready. I want this to go smooth and easy…you hear me, Sam?"

Sam looked up, seeing only disapproval and exasperation in his father's eyes. "Yes, sir. I hear you."

"Alright then, let's move out," John commanded before he turned and hurried down the left hand path.

Dean nudged Sam, the younger boy turning his gaze to his older brother. "Come on, kiddo. Let's haul ass," he said, leading the way down the other path, Sam following about ten feet behind.

"You know, Sam…if you'd just keep your mouth shut and listen, Dad wouldn't be so hard on you," Dean called back, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at his brooding little brother.

Sam looked up, his hazel eyes wide with hurt. "Well, he could listen to me once in a while, Dean. I'm not the only one who screws up, but according to Dad, I am. He's the one who wouldn't listen to me that last hunt and he nearly got himself killed, but do you think he'd acknowledge that I was right and he was wrong? No way…he found a way to make it my fault, just like he always does!" Sam spat, his eyes falling back to the path at his feet so that his brother wouldn't see the sudden moisture in them.

Dean rolled his eyes, shrugging his shoulders at his overly dramatic brother. "Whatever, Sam. Dad does the best he can…"

"With you, he does. With me? He couldn't care less about what I want or how I feel. I'm just supposed to follow in line, take what he says as gospel and not question him. What a crock!" Sam spat, stopping to kick at a small bush near the path.

Dean stopped and turned, his face suddenly red with anger. "You know what, Sam? You're just a spoiled little brat! I can't believe how selfish you are. Dad knows more than you will ever know about hunting, so yeah…you should shut your cakehole and listen to him. It's not always just about you, you know. There are three people in this family, Sam!"

"It's never about me, Dean. Dad didn't need me on this hunt. Caleb offered to come with you guys. Dad just made me come because he knew I had those tests and he wanted to show that he's in charge, that my life isn't mine to govern!"

"That's a bunch of bullshit, and you know it, Sam! Dad didn't make you come along just to ruin your life. You can make those tests up when we get back…"

"No…I can't, Dean! Mr. Fiedler said there would be no make ups! I'm going to get docked a full grade just for missing them! "

"Well…I'm sure if you would have told that to Dad, he would have taken Caleb up on the offer, Sam. He's not as bad as you make him out to be," Dean said, turning to make his way down the path once more, Sam huffing before moving to follow.

"He did know, Dean. I told him and he didn't care. He said it didn't matter. He said the only reason I'm in school is to keep CPS off his back," Sam called, hurrying to keep up with his brother.

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, Sam. Dad wouldn't say that," Dean spat, never slowing his stride.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm just making it up, because that's what I do. I'm just a spoiled, selfish brat who only thinks of himself and Dad and you can do no wrong…" Sam huffed, not even sure if his brother heard him.

Dean suddenly in his face let Sam know that he had indeed heard him. Sam pulled up short to avoid slamming into his brother and looked up into angry, green eyes. "You know what, Sam!? You said it, not me! You can just go the hell! I'm tired of your whining, stupid ass!"

Dean turned and stormed off, leaving a very shocked and hurt little brother to watch his retreating form. Sam's mouth hung open, not able to comprehend what had just transpired. Dean didn't believe him. He thought he was lying just to make John look bad. But Sam wasn't lying. His father had said those things to him. Sam knew that Dean would never believe him. His older brother had just proven that. Sam's heart sunk as he watched Dean disappear around a bend in the path. He'd thought that Dean would always have his back, that he would always defend him, but now he knew that wasn't true. As long as Sam blindly followed orders and kept himself in line where his father and brother wanted him, Dean would have his back, be on his side, but once he stepped out of that line, tried to voice his own opinion, tried to be who he was and not who they wanted him to be, then all bets were off. Dean would always choose John's side, Sam could see that now.

Sam loved his brother more than anything and it hurt him deeply to know that Dean's support depended on whether Sam stayed in line or not. He stood for a moment longer, unable to move. With heavy feet and a heavy heart, he started back down the path, hurrying to catch up to his brother, uneasy about him not being in his sight. Dean may be pissed at him, but he still needed to watch his brother's back, so Sam picked up his pace, Dean coming into his sight in just a few short moments. Dean turned to glance over his shoulder, turning away quickly when he saw that Sam was behind him. The brothers continued on in silence until they had reached the area their father had instructed them to take position at. Dean walked to a tree on the right side of the path, pointing Sam to another tree about fifteen feet away. Sam nodded then moved to the tree, leaning against it and dropping his pack at his feet. He reached in and pulled out two flares, wanting to be prepared if and when the Wendigo showed its ugly face. He looked over and saw that Dean had his flares in hand also. He sighed when it was apparent that Dean was purposely ignoring him. It was going to be a long day, Sam decided as his eyes scanned the surrounding forest, his ears listening for any sounds that did not belong.

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Dean trudged down the path, anger at his brother driving him to move faster. His anger however began to dissolve as he thought about what Sam had said. His brother may be a pain in the ass, and he may be whiney at times, but Dean had never known him to lie. He began to feel the first tendrils of guilt push their way into his head as he thought about what he'd said to Sam. He knew that his dad must have said those things to Sam, because Sam wasn't a liar, even though Dean had basically called him that. Dean knew that John could be a son of a bitch sometimes, especially to Sam and he felt bad for taking his father's side on this one. The hurt he saw in his little brother's eyes just before he'd turned away and stormed off assaulted Dean's mind and the young man slowed his pace, listening for the sound of his brother's footsteps behind him. He was just about to turn back when he heard nothing, but then he heard Sam hurrying up the path towards him. He glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure Sam was there then turned his head back around and continued down the path. He would apologize later, when he had come up with the right words to say.

Dean came into a small clearing and concluded that they were where John had wanted them. He moved to a tree to his right and indicated to Sam to take the tree opposite him on the left. He swallowed when he saw the miserable look on his baby brother's face, but remained silent as he watched Sam take position, the younger boy reaching into his dropped pack and removing two flares. Dean followed suit, removing the flares he had stashed in his pack and turned his gaze to the trees. He would be ready for the Wendigo when the evil bastard showed itself. He hoped that all would go as smoothly as John had said it should, his biggest fear being that he wouldn't be able to get a good shot off, Sam getting hurt because of it. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't let that happen. He'd hurt Sam already today and he wouldn't allow any more hurt to come to him. He'd take care of the fugly then he'd apologize to Sam for not believing him.

Dean cast one more glance Sam's way, smiling softly when he saw Sam alert, his eyes scanning the trees, flares ready. His dad was wrong about Sam. The kid may not embrace hunting like they did, but he was good at it nonetheless and he definitely wasn't a screw up. Sam had indeed been right about the last hunt, their father's stubbornness almost costing him his life. Sam's insistence that John had been mistaken and not letting Dean be until the older brother finally listened to him was the only thing that had saved their father's life. But, of course John had shrugged it off, not giving Sam his due, never realizing how deeply his indifference hurt his baby. Dean decided that once this hunt was over, John and he were going to have a long talk. His father needed to understand that Sam was not Dean and that no matter how much John pushed him and cut him down, he would never be Dean, nor should he have to be. Sam was perfect just the way he was. He didn't need to change. He was Dean's geeky, pain in the ass, kind hearted little brother and Dean couldn't imagine him any other way. Dean didn't want him any other way.

Dean settled more heavily against the tree, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head. He hadn't slept much on the ride to the forest and was having a hard time keeping his eyes open all of a sudden. He was fine when he was moving, but now it was the hurry up and wait part of the hunt, the part he truly hated. He needed to be in action, needed to be doing something. His mind wandered as the minutes ticked by, the silence of the forest lulling him, luring his mind away from the task at hand. He dropped his arms to his sides, hitting the flares against his thighs in a steady beat to the song that played in his mind. His eyes scanned the treeline before dropping to the ground at his feet. Sam's soft yet insistent voice calling to him finally brought him around and he looked up just in time to see Sam get hit, the boy crying out in alarm as the Wendigo threw him. Dean had no time to react before the creature had him, it's long claws piercing his flesh, cutting into his ribs. Dean screamed in agony as the beast dug further into him and started to run with him. A loud sound echoed through the forest then a bright flash of light filled Dean's vision. He heard the Wendigo scream before he was flung to the side, his body slamming into a tree, pain lancing through his head as it impacted with the hard trunk.

Dean turned sluggish eyes up to the creature, staring as it pounded at the fire that engulfed its arm. It took off into the trees, an ear splitting screech making Dean pull his hands up to cover his ears. Darkness began to encroach upon his vision, and he briefly thought about Sam and whether he was okay before the darkness claimed him and his head fell silently to the forest floor. He didn't feel the hands that clutched at him, frantic yet gentle. He didn't hear the pleading cries of his little brother as he begged him to open his eyes. He didn't witness his father grabbing Sam up and literally tossing him away, the young boy falling to the ground, grunting in pain as his father yelled at him to stay put, to not touch his brother. It would be awhile before Dean would wake up and when he did, he would find that the family he had known that morning was gone and may never be the same again.

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**Okay, hopefully this came through correctly this time. It will make chapter two make a whole lot more sense. Please review.**

**Cindy**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, totally amazed at the response I've already received for this story. I have so many comments to respond to! So, I know the first chapter was a bit short so I decided to post chapter two tonight. I'll post the next chapter either Friday or Saturday. I just want to say that despite this chapter, I love John. My other stories have portrayed him the way I would have liked to see him. This one I think is a little more accurate to the show, maybe even a little more harsh. John will eventually see the errors of his ways, but will it be too late? We'll see. Hope you like it.**

**Cindy.**

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John gingerly turned Dean over, his eyes immediately moving to the blood soaked shirt beneath his eldest son's jacket. He pulled the jacket away then unbuttoned the shirt, hissing at the bloodstain on the t-shirt beneath. Taking out his knife, he cut the t-shirt up the center then pulled it back, revealing several deep puncture marks across Dean's ribs.

"Oh my God," came a whispered cry from behind John's back.

John looked up as Sam moved to Dean's side, his eyes narrowing at his youngest before they returned to Dean. He removed his jacket and outer shirt then pulled off his own t-shirt which he promptly pressed over the wound, Dean groaning but not awakening at the pressure.

"Hold this!" John commanded as he jerked Sam's hand roughly away from the boy's side and pressed it down over Dean's wound.

Sam looked up through brown fringe before dropping his gaze to his brother's lax face. He pulled back as John took his outer shirt and placed it over the balled up t-shirt. He gently lifted Dean a bit and pushed one sleeve under his back then brought it up over his body. John took both sleeves and tied them tightly together, his makeshift bandage the best he could do with what he had to work with. Next, John lifted one of Dean's eyelids, examining the unconscious man's eyes. Shaking his head, he let the eyelid drop then lifted Dean's head with one hand and felt around with his other. He found what he was looking for just back from Dean's left ear. His fingers fell over a large lump and he felt warm wetness as he pulled his hand away. Looking down, he saw that his fingers were coated with fresh blood.

John brought his gaze up and glared at his youngest son as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large handkerchief. He wrapped the handkerchief around Dean's head and tied it so that it fit snuggly. He sat back on his haunches and gazed at his injured son. He reached his fingers out and pressed them to Dean's neck, sighing when he felt a strong pulse beneath his fingers. He glanced up at Sam and his eyes darkened.

"What the hell happened, Sam? What did you do this time? Huh!?" he spat, taking in the pale face of his youngest son.

"Wh-what? I-I didn't…" Sam sputtered as he tried to answer his father.

"Oh…so it wasn't your fault? I suppose you're going to say that it was Dean's fault? Gonna blame your brother for your own worthlessness!" John hissed, shaking his head in disgust.

"N-no…I…I tried to warn him. It all h-happened so fast…"

"I doubt that you tried to warn him, Sam. You were probably daydreaming and you just let that monster hurt your brother! If he dies, it's on you. I can't believe that you and Dean are brothers," John said, turning away from Sam, leaving the boy to stare at his father with wide, shocked eyes.

"Dad…"

"Just shut the hell up, Sam! I really don't want to hear you right now. We need to get Dean to the hospital…that's the only thing that matters," John shot as he moved his arms in position under Dean's body.

John lifted Dean's limp form from the ground, grunting under the weight. He gazed down, spotting Dean's pack about ten feet away near another large tree. "Get Dean's and your packs and follow me," he snapped before heading for the path and pushing through the trees.

Sam nodded and went to where Dean's pack lay on the ground where he had left it then he walked to the tree where he had stood and retrieved his own pack. He looked in the direction that the Wendigo had escaped, a shiver running up his spine. As he turned toward the path he winced as a sharp pain shot through his side. He hefted the packs up over his shoulder then pulled his jacket away from his torso. He looked down and pulled in a sharp breath when he saw the crimson stain soaking through his shirt.

"Shit," he hissed as he pulled his jacket tight around his body. There was no way he was going to let his father see that he too had been hurt. That would only piss the man off further and Sam was already in deep enough crap, he certainly didn't need John to be more pissed at him.

"Sam!" John's voice yelled from up the path and Sam jerked toward the voice, gasping at the pain the motion caused.

He shot forward, jogging up the path, his one arm wrapped tightly around his side. Soon, his father came into view and he slowed his pace, falling in line about ten feet behind the man. His gaze moved to what he could see of his brother and he had to swallow down the bile that suddenly rose in his throat. Dean's legs hung limply from John's arms and one arm dangled down, flopping as John moved quickly down the path. Finally, the Winchesters reached the Impala and Sam trotted forward and pulled the back door of the car open. He threw the packs onto the floor of the backseat then climbed in and scooted across the seat. John leaned in and between the two of them, they were able to get Dean situated as safely as possible on the seat, his head resting in Sam's lap. John glanced down at his eldest, then scowled at his youngest before rushing around the car and dropping into the drivers seat. He started the car and tore out of the parking lot, steering the car toward town where he hoped he would find a decent hospital to help his son.

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Two hours later-Mt. Hood Medical Center-Gresham Oregon

John paced the waiting room floor, waiting on word of his eldest son. Sam sat silently in a chair in the corner where John had demanded he sit and not move. That was over an hour ago, right after they had rushed Dean through the doors of the hospital and the young man was whisked away behind the ER doors. John had not spoken to his youngest son since. Another hour passed until a doctor finally stepped through the ER doors and approached the harried hunter. Sam jumped up as the doctor walked up to John, the boy stepping beside and one step behind his father.

"Are you the family of Dean Shaw?" the doctor queried, his eyes hurriedly gazing around the empty waiting room.

"I'm his father, John," John answered, not acknowledging Sam behind him.

The doctor glanced quickly at Sam before turning his attention back to John. "I'm Doctor Jeffrey Mitlon. I treated Dean and will continue to be his doctor for the duration of his stay," the doctor said, reaching out and shaking John's hand.

"Is my brother okay?" Sam questioned meekly from behind John.

"Sam…quiet," John said, his eyes never leaving the confused doctor.

Sam lowered his head, the boy shuffling from foot to foot as he waited to hear about his brother. He prayed that the doctor brought them good news.

"How is my son, Dr. Mitlon?" John queried, his hands clasped nervously together.

"Well, he had quite the wound over his ribs. Some of the punctures were quite deep, but we were able to repair the damage and I'm happy to tell you that no internal damage was done," the doctor explained with a soft smile.

"That's good news. What about his head? He received quite a knock," John asked, relief washing over the man.

"Yes, he had a nice sized lump. We stitched up the wound and we did a quick scan to check for any bleeding in his brain, just to be safe. Dean is going to have a good headache for a few days, but he was very lucky. He has a slight concussion, but other than that everything looks good. We want to keep him for twenty four hours to make sure everything continues to be okay, but I see no reason for us to have to keep him longer than that," Dr. Mitlon replied.

"Thank you, doctor. That's very good news. When can I see him?" John queried, his body relaxing at the doctor's words.

"We're getting him settled in a room right now. I'll send a nurse down for you when he's all set. Give us about ten to fifteen minutes," Dr. Mitlon answered.

John nodded and shook the doctor's hand once more before the doctor turned and pushed back through the ER doors. John turned and looked down at his youngest son. Sam gazed up at him, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Dad…I'm sorry. I should have…" Sam started, John's harsh voice cutting him off before he could finish.

"Save it, Sam. Dean could've died tonight. We got lucky, but we might not be the next time. You're selfishness nearly cost me my son, and I won't listen to anymore of your excuses!" John hissed.

"Dad, I wasn't going to…" Sam whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "Can…can we just go see Dean for now?"

John narrowed his eyes and grabbed Sam by his arm, dragging him out the doors of the hospital. He pulled him around the corner and shoved him against the wall of the building. Sam winced, but John didn't seem to notice. His eyes flashed dangerously as he leaned in, his face inches from his sons.

"You're not going to see Dean," John hissed.

"What? But, Dad…"

"Shut up, Sam! Dean doesn't need you around him right now. You're the reason he's in this hospital and I'm not going to let you near him. I want you to go back to the motel and I want you to keep your ass there!" John spat, letting go of Sam and watching as the boy stumbled forward before catching himself.

"Dad…please don't…I need to see Dean…"

"No, Sam. You need to think about what you've done! You need to think about how many people have died and how many more will die if something isn't done about that Wendigo. Any more deaths will be on your head, Sam. You go back to that motel and think about that!"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Sam whispered.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, Sam. Now get moving. And don't show your face at this hospital," John said, turning his back on his youngest son and storming back into the hospital.

Sam stared forlornly after his father, his arm across his body, hand clutching at his throbbing side. He lowered his head and started toward the Impala. Once he reached it, he opened the back door, thankful that they had been too busy worrying about Dean to lock the doors. He gathered up his pack, reached into the front seat and locked the drivers door then backed out, pushed the lock down and slammed the back door. Sam turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes moving up the outside wall of the hospital, wondering which room belonged to his brother. With tears welling in his eyes, the teenager turned and trudged through the parking lot, turning right when he got to the street. The motel was about three miles from the hospital and Sam had no money for a bus or cab, so the boy hoisted his pack up higher and began the long walk back.

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John sat silently beside Dean's hospital bed, watching the rise and fall of the sleeping young man's chest. He had been assured by Dr. Shaw that his son would be fine, but until Dean awoke and spoke to him, he would not hold his breath. He thought about Sam and his blood began to boil all over again. The boy had gone too far this time. He had nearly gotten Dean killed and it was high time that Sam was made to understand that his selfish ways would not be tolerated any longer.

John leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn't think about Sam right now. His eldest son needed him and he wouldn't allow his anger over his youngest son to interfere with where his mind needed to be.

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Sam looked up, the motel finally coming into sight. He sighed and trudged on, stopping in front of the room he and his family had been residing in for the past two nights. He pulled the keycard from his pack and unlocked the door, pushing into the room and dropping the pack to the floor just inside the door. He shuffled to he and Dean's bed and pulled off his jacket, draping it over the edge of the bed. He unbuttoned his outer shirt and carefully peeled it off, hissing when it pulled at the t-shirt below which in turn pulled at the wound to his side. Sam gazed down his front, swallowing at the large blood stain on his shirt. He tried to pull the shirt up, but yelped as it pulled, the fabric stuck to the wound. He decided that he would have to soak the shirt off so he undressed the rest of the way then stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, waited for the temperature to heat up then stepped under the spray.

After a few minutes, Sam gingerly began to peel the t-shirt away from his skin until he was able to pull the shirt over his head. He tossed the wet shirt onto the bathroom floor then grabbed the bar of soap and washed his body, cleaning the long claw marks that the Wendigo left when it tossed him aside to get to Dean. Sam rinsed off then stepped from the shower, grabbing a towel and patting himself dry. His side throbbed painfully, the wounds already showing signs of redness and puffiness. The first aid kit was still in the Impala so he had nothing to bandage the wound with and nothing to take for infection or pain. The bleeding had nearly stopped so Sam dug through his duffel bag and pulled out a clean t-shirt and boxers. He dressed then sat on the edge of the bed, his mind wandering to the conversation with his father. Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered the look of near hatred on his father's face. He brushed angrily at the tears, unwilling to shed one more tear. His father thought he was weak. He thought he was worthless, had said so himself. It was high time Sam showed John that he wasn't weak, that he could be the son he yearned for.

John had said that more people would die if the Wendigo wasn't taken care of. He had said that those deaths would be on Sam. There was no way Sam was going to allow any person to die because of him. If John wanted the Wendigo taken care of then Sam would just have to do as his father said. He reached down and pulled on his jeans then found a clean pair of socks in his duffel. Once his socks and shoes were on, he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. He reached for his pack and rummaged through it, making sure he had his knife. He would have to find the flares that he and Dean had dropped in the forest. Sam gathered up his bloody clothes and the towel he had used to dry off with and stuffed them into the bottom of his duffel, zipping the duffel up and pushing it beside his bed. He picked his pack up once more and headed for the door. He pulled the door open and with one more glance around the room he stepped out into the cool air and pulled the door closed behind him.

Sam made his way down the road that ran in front of the motel and began to search for a suitable car. He finally found a small compact where the doors were unlocked and pulled the driver's door open. He had the car running in a few short minutes and soon was on the road, heading in the direction of the parking area where he and his family had parked before everything had gone so wrong. One of two things was going to happen when Sam reached the forest. Either he would succeed and kill the Wendigo, or the Wendigo would find him first and then his father wouldn't have to worry about his worthless son anymore.

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**I so want to kick John's ass right now and I wrote this stuff! Holy cow! Anyway, I hope that you will let me know what you think. Much more to come.**

**Cindy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, I have chapter 3 for you. I hope all of you who read chapters one and two earlier this week were able to re-read chapter one after I made the changes to it yesterday. Still can't figure out what happened to cut off the end of the chapter, but oh well, it's fixed now. I am a bit overwhelmed by the response to this story. I just want to thank all of those who've commented, put the story on alert and marked it as favorite, and also those who have done an author alert and favorite author. I'm stunned actually. Okay, lets get to the story, shall we?**

**Cindy**

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Sam parked the car he'd stolen in the same parking area that his family had parked in earlier and exited the vehicle, pulling his pack out with him. He glanced around the area to make sure he was alone, thankful that the recent disappearances were keeping any would be hikers away. He found the path he and his father and brother had taken and started down it without hesitation. He walked with determination, his father's voice ringing through his head, telling him he was worthless and that he would never be as good as his brother. Sam understood that he was not the hunter Dean was, nor would he probably ever be, but he was the best at some things and his father refused to acknowledge any of the contributions that he made to the 'family business'. In John's eyes, Sam was nothing but a burden, the weak link that needed constant protection. Sam was a job to his family. How many times had he heard that it was their job to take care of him, to keep him safe? Well, from the people that Sam had met during his family's travels, most people didn't like their jobs.

Sam shook his head to clear the thoughts from it. He'd either prove to his family that he could hold his own on the battlefield or he'd die trying and then he wouldn't be a burden any longer. He straightened, looked around the woods that surrounded him, his ears pricked for any sounds, and continued down the path. He needed to find the clearing where he and Dean had taken up their posts so that he could retrieve their dropped flares. Without the flares, he had zero chance to kill the Wendigo. The knife he carried would do no good against the horrific beast. Sam finally came to the two paths that had separated his family earlier and took the path to the right. He hurried down the path, coming to the clearing where the attack had occurred and rushed to the tree that Dean had been propped against. He dropped to his knees and began to search for the flares. It didn't take long before he'd found both flares and he was soon searching the tall grass by 'his' tree, searching for his. As Sam was on his knees, his hand scrambling through the grass, he heard an unearthly screech coming from deep within the forest. He sucked in a quick breath and began to search more frantically for the flare, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as the screech came again, only this time closer.

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John sat next to Dean's bed, his eyes moving to the phone that sat on the nightstand on the opposite side. He wanted to call Sam, to make sure that his youngest son had made it back to the motel safely, but he couldn't bring himself to make the call. He was still deeply angered by Sam's actions, and the fact that Dean still hadn't awakened only made those feelings worse. Sam had nearly cost Dean his life and John couldn't quite bring himself to truly be worried about the youngest Winchester. He could however take the time he had to himself to come up with a suitable punishment for his son. He could give Sam a physical punishment, but he was certain that wouldn't work. The one punishment that John could come up with that would truly make Sam think about his attitude was to deny him any access to his brother. John had decided that once Dean was out of the hospital and had a few days rest, they would go immediately to Blue Earth, to Pastor Jim's where he would leave Sam while he and Dean continued to hunt. It would only be for a month or two, but it would most certainly get the point across to Sam that his attitude needed to change if he wanted to be with his brother. John actually looked forward to the time he would have alone with Dean. He loved Sam, but the boy just wasn't the son he needed him to be. Always with his head in the clouds, dreaming of a better life, a normal life, whatever that was. John needed a son who embraced the hunters life, who put the search for Mary's killer ahead of all other things. A son like Dean.

John jerked his head toward his eldest son when Dean let out a soft moan, the young man's eyelids beginning to flutter as he finally began to wake up. John stood and leaned over the railing of the hospital bed and took Dean's hand in his. He watched as Dean fought his way to consciousness, his hand squeezing Dean's lightly.

"That's it, Dean. Wake up. You're safe now," John coaxed, the man smiling when Dean's green eyes opened and he looked around the room with confusion.

Dean's eyes lit on John's face and he scrunched his forehead as he tried to understand what was happening. "D-Dad?" he queried, his voice sounding so much younger than his twenty years.

"Yeah…you're safe now, Dean. You're in the hospital, but you're going to be just fine," John replied as he let loose of Dean's hand.

Dean gazed at his father for another moment before his eyes moved around the room. He turned back to John, his green eyes wide and suddenly very clear.

"Wh-where's Sammy?" he asked. "Is he okay? Please, Dad…is Sammy okay?"

John lowered the railing on the bed and sat on the edge, his lack of response causing a heart pounding panic to wash over the younger Winchester.

"Oh my God…he's hurt badly, isn't he? Oh my God…" Dean cried, the young man trying to push himself up from the bed, his father's hands suddenly reaching out to gently push him back.

"Sam's fine, Dean. He's just not here," John said, his calm gaze meeting Dean's startled one.

"What? Why isn't he here?" Dean questioned, his eyes narrowing on his father.

"I sent him back to the motel," John answered.

"You sent him back to the motel? Why? Did the doctors say he was okay?" Dean asked warily.

"Why wouldn't he be okay, Dean? You're the one who was hurt. You're the one who paid for Sam's mistake," John said, his voice taking on a hint of anger.

"What? Wait a minute. I paid for Sammy's mistake? What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You wouldn't have been hurt if Sam had been paying attention to the hunt, Dean. It's his fault you're lying here right now."

"So, that's the conclusion you came to? I got hurt and it's Sam's fault? Did you ask him what happened? Did you give him a chance at all to explain?"

"I didn't need an explanation. It was clear what happened. Sam had his head in the clouds and he let the Wendigo get the jump on you."

"So, you didn't listen to him. You didn't let him tell you what happened. You just assumed that he'd screwed up and got me hurt?"

"I don't like your tone, Dean. You may be hurt, but that doesn't mean you can use that tone with me."

"Dad…I was the one who wasn't paying attention. I'm the one who screwed up. I'm the one who got me hurt. Sam tried to get my attention, but…" Dean started, his eyes suddenly going wide again. "Dad, please tell me you at least had Sam checked out before you sent him away."

"Just wait. Why are you trying to cover for your brother?" John queried, his anger rising.

"Was Sam okay, Dad? Did you even check him over? Did you even stop for one second to make sure that he wasn't hurt too?"

John stared at Dean, a big lump settling into the pit of his stomach. He'd been so angry at Sam that he hadn't even thought to check him for injuries. "I…I had my hands full with you, Dean. He was fine…I'm sure of it," John said, his voice not sounding very confident all of the sudden.

"Dad…Sam was attacked before I was. That thing threw him a good fifteen feet before it got to me," Dean said, the young man sitting up despite his father's attempts to keep him down.

"He seemed fine…he didn't say anything," John said, halfway to himself.

"Would you have listened to him, Dad? If you were acting the way I imagine you were, he was probably scared to say anything."

John stared at Dean, his face paling as he moved around the bed, the scene outside of the hospital slamming into him. Sam had made a sound as if he were in pain, but John had ignored it, assuming it was from being pushed against the wall. He hadn't even considered that Sam could have been hurt by the Wendigo. He picked up the phone and dialed the motel's number from the card he had in his jacket pocket. "Room 28 please," he said as the call was answered.

John waited as the phone to their room rang, frowning when it went unanswered. He slowly hung up the phone and turned wary eyes onto his eldest son. "He didn't answer," John said as he moved around the bed again.

"That's it. I'm getting outa' here!" Dean cried as he swung his bare legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, the young man swaying dangerously on his feet.

John grabbed Dean's arm to steady him then gently pushed him back down onto the bed. "Dean, you're not getting out of that bed until the doctor gives his okay. I'm sure Sam is fine. He's probably in the shower. I told him to stay put."

Dean let out a sarcastic chuckle. "So, he's fine because you say he is? He could be hurt, Dad. You blamed him for what happened and you didn't even bother to see if he was hurt! I'm getting out of here and we're going to go make sure he's okay."

"Dean…"

"No! Get the doctor and get me the AMA papers. I'll walk out either way, with the papers or without!" Dean cried, standing again, this time more solidly.

John glared at his son before he shook his head and left the room. Dean searched the room, squeezing his eyes shut at the throbbing in his head. He shook off the pain as he thought of the possible reasons that would keep Sam from answering the phone. Dean had just finished dressing when John walked into the room, a doctor following close behind.

"Dean, this is Dr. Mitlon. I've explained that you want to be released AMA," John said.

Dean shook the doctor's hand then finished buttoning his shirt. "Hey doc. Do you have the papers?"

"Mr. Shaw…I really think you need to stay for a bit longer. As I explained to your father, we'd like you to stay twenty four hours, just to be on the safe side," Dr. Mitlon said, hoping that he was getting through to the young man.

"As much as I'd love to stay at your little spa here, doc…I have places to be," Dean replied as he pushed past the bewildered doctor.

"Dean…" John started.

"No, Dad. We need to get back to check on Sammy," Dean shot.

"At least let me check you over first, Mr. Shaw. I'd feel more comfortable releasing you if you'd at least let me do that," Dr. Mitlon said.

Dean rolled his eyes then dropped down onto the edge of the bed. "Let's get this over with then, okay?"

Dr. Mitlon nodded and moved in front of Dean. He lifted first the right eyelid then the left, checking Dean's pupils. Next he checked the wound on the young hunter's head before moving to check his ribs.

Dean looked up at the doctor, one eyebrow cocked. "So…what's the verdict, doc?"

"Well, as much as I'd like you to stay, I think that as long as you take it easy for the next week or so, you should be fine," Dr. Mitlon said.

"Great…give me the papers and I'll be outa' your hair," Dean quipped, standing and taking the papers from the doctor's outstretched hand.

Ten minutes later, Dean and John were on the road. Ten more minutes and they were pulling into the parking lot of the motel they currently called home. They parked in front of room twenty eight and both exited the car and hurried for the door. John pushed the door open, his eyes immediately scanning the room for his youngest son. He heard Dean curse behind him before the younger man moved to the bathroom door. He pushed the partially closed door open and peered inside. He turned his gaze onto his father, his eyes filled with worry.

"He's not here, Dad! Where the hell would he be?" Dean cried, his voice rising with panic.

"I don't know, but he's been here," John said as he crouched down on the floor.

"How do you know?" Dean shot, anger brightening his eyes.

"Because, his duffel was by the door and now it's by your bed."

"Let me see it," Dean demanded, taking the bag from John's hands.

Dean opened the bag and began to rummage through it. He stopped suddenly then pulled out Sam's button down shirt. He held it in his trembling hands as he lifted his eyes to his father's face.

"What is it, Dean?" John asked, fear knotting in his stomach.

Dean held Sam's shirt up and John gasped as he gazed upon the large bloodstain that covered the side of it. The shirt had four long slashes in it, undoubtedly from the Wendigo's claws. Both men paled as they stared at the shirt. Dean looked into the duffel and pulled out the bloodied towel and t-shirt. John's face paled as he stared at the blood stained items. He scrubbed a shaky hand over his face then gazed at Dean with remorseful eyes.

"We gotta find him, Dad," Dean whispered softly.

"We will," John said in reply.

"We have no idea where he went. Where would we even begin to look?" Dean queried fearfully.

"I don't know, Dean. He could be anywhere. He's pissed and hurt," John said.

"Well, we better get a move on because once we find the little bitch, I'm gonna kick his ass," Dean spat.

John chuckled lightly and stood, both men moving for the door. The door closed behind them and soon the rumble of the Impala could be heard as the black beauty sped down the road.

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Sam's fingers finally fumbled over the flare and he pulled it up from the grass, his eyes jerking to his right as he heard the underbrush and small trees rustling as something large pushed through it. He scrambled away, stuffing two of the flares down the back of his jeans. He held one flare out before him as his frantic eyes searched the trees. The sounds were coming from in front of him he guessed at approximately fifty feet away. Sam backed into the trees, hoping to see the creature before it saw him, if indeed it was the Wendigo and not a deer or bear or any other wild animal that lived in these woods.

Sam jumped back as the Wendigo crashed through the trees on the other side of the small clearing, it's mouth turned up into a horrific sneer, sharp teeth glinting in the muted light. It stopped and stood perfectly still, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. It suddenly turned its head as it stared at the exact spot where Sam was hidden.

"Shit!" Sam cried as the Wendigo started in his direction, its bared teeth dripping with saliva.

Sam stumbled back as the Wendigo sprang forward, the boy thankfully able to keep on his feet. Sam turned and ran through the trees, the Wendigo closing in on him as the two ran deeper into the woods. Sam ran as fast as he could, but he could sense the creature gaining ground on him and knew that if he didn't do something soon, the Wendigo would have him. He spotted a group of trees growing close together and turned toward them, running through the middle then turning, the flare ready for when the Wendigo came through behind. But, the Wendigo didn't come through the trees. Sam's breathing picked up as he scanned the trees, his heart pounding loudly in his chest.

Suddenly, Sam was hit from the side and thrown some ten feet away, the boy landing on his back with a breath stealing thud. He had managed to keep hold of the flare and pulled the cord just as the Wendigo made its move on him. The flare skimmed the creature's side, making it scream out in fury. The flare didn't however slow the Wendigo and it was on Sam in a second, ripping the boy up from the ground only to slam him back down with ferocious strength. Sam felt ribs crack as he hit the ground, and he gasped as he tried to pull in air. The Wendigo pulled him up from the ground again and tucked him roughly under it's arm before it turned and began to run at full speed through the thick underbrush and trees. Sam's face was slapped with branches as he was carried into the woods, thin lines of blood trickling down from dozens of deep scratches. He continued to try and draw in air, his lungs heaving, the pain nearly unbearable. His vision began to swim at the pain and the dizzying movement and Sam couldn't keep the darkness from claiming him, his body falling limp in the Wendigo's grasp as it disappeared into the dense forest.

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**So, John now knows that he made a mistake. Wonder what he'll do with the information. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. **

**Cindy**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, before you read chapter 4, I replaced the authors note in chapter 3 with the actual chapter 3. I noticed after I posted it that it didn't do a notification, I guess because I already posted something for chapter 3. I don't think anyone with the story on alert would have received an notification either. So, read chapter 3 first! LOL What a mess! Okay, so...go ahead...I'll wait.....................................................................Done? Okay, now on to chapter 4! Enjoy.**

**Cindy**

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The Impala traveled down the deserted road, John behind the wheel while Dean rode shotgun, his eyes scanning the passing scenery, looking for one shaggy haired boy. They'd been at it for hours and still no sign of the youngest Winchester. Dean had barely spoken to his father, the young hunter holding onto his anger, afraid of taking the focus off of Sam if he let the anger loose. He turned questioning eyes to John when the older man pulled the car into a dirt turnoff and turned off the engine. John rubbed his weary eyes then stared out the windshield, the man seeming to deflate in front of Dean's eyes.

"Dad?" Dean asked worriedly.

John turned tired eyes onto his son, the man appearing to be lost for words. After a few moments, he finally found the courage to speak. "Are you telling me the truth, Dean?"

"About what?"

"About you being the one who wasn't paying attention. Or…are you just covering for Sam so that he doesn't get in trouble?"

"Not sure if you've noticed, Dad, but Sammy already is in trouble. You should have made sure he was okay, no matter how mad you were. He's your son…his health should be more important than your need to cut him down every chance you get!" Dean hissed, not ready to let his father off the hook just yet. In fact, he may never be ready, especially if they didn't find Sam safe and sound.

"I know that, Dean. I screwed up. I should have made sure he wasn't hurt, but I didn't. It's just that…god, Dean…you were so quiet. I thought…"

"You thought Sam had screwed up and gotten me hurt. You automatically assumed he was in the wrong. Well, he wasn't, Dad. I'm not covering for Sam. I messed up. I was off in la la land, not Sammy. I failed him, not the other way around. We both failed him this time."

John dropped his head, shame washing over him. He'd been so hard on Sam lately. Sam wasn't allowed to sneeze without John finding some sort of fault with him. Sam cleaned the weapons, flawlessly, but John would make him do it again, just to let Sam know who was boss. If Sam was one minute late getting home from school, John would have him run five miles before he was allowed in the house to drink or eat dinner. He made Sam stay up until midnight, studying Latin and other writings then would make him rise before five to do morning training before he left for school. John shook his head, amazed at what a complete jerk he had been to his youngest. No wonder Sam hated him. He certainly didn't deserve his love or respect. John was pulled from his thoughts as Dean's voice sounded, the elder man looking up at Dean's wide, green eyes.

"Huh? What did you say, Dean?" he asked, wondering when Dean had started to look so much older than his twenty years.

"I asked you how you could have missed the Wendigo," Dean replied.

"What? I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"When you shot the bastard with your flare…how could you have only winged it? You don't miss, Dad," Dean said, the young man sounding tired and old.

"I didn't shoot the Wendigo, Dean. It wasn't even there when I got there. Sam was leaning over you, trying to get you to wake up and…"

"Sammy…"

"What? What about Sammy?"

"It was Sammy. He shot the Wendigo. He saved my life, Dad. He was hurt and yet he still managed to hurt that thing enough to get it off of me. How's that for your worthless youngest son?"

"Dean…I never said he was worthless," John said softly, shame once again washing over him.

"You didn't need to say it, Dad. Your actions told Sam all he needed to know. Do you even realize he thinks you hate him? I overheard him one day, saying that in your eyes, he's just a waste of space. The problem is, he's beginning to believe it," Dean said, a sad lilt to his voice.

John stared at Dean in shock. How could he have let things get so out of hand? How could he have let his baby think that he was hated? That he was worthless and a waste of space? John loved Sam with all that he had. He loved both of his sons more than life itself. How could he have been so blind? Now, Sam was out there somewhere, hurt and alone and John only had himself to blame. He'd pretty much made it clear that Sam wasn't good enough. That Sam didn't deserve to even sit with his brother at the hospital. John knew that was the worst thing he could have done to his son. To separate those boys? John lowered his eyes as he shook his head.

"Dean…I'm so sorry. I've been a complete ass and now Sammy's out there…"

"I'm not the one you've been an ass to, Dad. You owe Sam the apology, not me," Dean said softly.

"I know, but I owe you one too. You've had to be in the middle of all of this," John replied.

"I don't want an apology, Dad. I want to find Sammy. That's all that matters. He's all that matters right now!" Dean shouted, tired of sitting there, wasting time talking.

John turned around, his trembling hands taking the steering wheel. He reached down and started the car, the rumble doing nothing to calm his frayed nerves. Without a word, he pulled out of the turn out and started down the road once again. They would find Sam, get him taken care of and then he and his son would have a nice long talk. He would apologize to his youngest until he had convinced the fifteen year old that he was loved and that he wasn't a waste of space. He owed Sam that. He owed him so much more than that.

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Sam groaned as his eyes moved erratically under his lids, his chin lifting from where it rested on his chest, only to fall again. Hazel eyes finally made an appearance as Sam pulled them open and managed to lift his head. Sam groaned again as he moved and realized that his arms were lifted high above his head and secured to the ceiling of what Sam surmised in his muddled brain to be some sort of underground cave. Sam realized that his feet didn't touch the ground and he closed his eyes as the enormity of the danger he was in sunk in. The Wendigo had to be somewhere near. It wouldn't be much longer before it showed up, looking for a snack. Sam didn't want to be a snack. He didn't want to die here, alone and in the dark. He wanted to do what he'd come to these woods to do. He wanted to kill the Wendigo and prove to his father that he wasn't worthless. Once he did that, he really wasn't sure what he wanted. He knew he'd never get what he wanted…needed with his family. John would always see him as the lesser son. The son who didn't measure up. And Dean? Dean would always back up his father. Now, Sam knew that Dean loved him, would do anything for him. Anything except stand up to their father for him.

John was Dean's hero. He was his idol. He would never turn against him for his pain in the ass little brother. Sam was on his own there. If he wanted to make John see him the way he saw Dean, then it was up to Sam to make that happen. That meant that Sam had to change everything about himself. He would have to change everything that made him who he was. He would do it too, because despite all of the hurt, he still craved his father's approval. He still needed his father's love.

"I gotta get out of this mess first," Sam whispered to himself, his eyes moving up his arms, trying to see just how he was attached to the ceiling.

Sam stopped suddenly when he heard a low moan coming from his right. He jerked his head around, trying to see through the darkness. "Hello? Is anybody there?" he called softly, his voice shaking warily.

"Help me…" a weak, hoarse voice pleaded.

Sam's eyes widened as he stared into the darkness. "Who are you?" he asked, his mouth going dry as he waited for an answer.

"Paul Fently," the weak voice replied, a ragged cough following.

"You're one of the hikers that went missing," Sam said, trying desperately to free himself. It wasn't just his life on the line now.

"It hurts so bad…"

"What hurts? Are you okay?"

"N-no. It…what is that thing?"

"Uh…I'm not sure. Look, I'm going to get us out of here. I just have to get free," Sam said, hoping to comfort Paul as much as possible.

A soft sob carried through the darkness and Sam swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. "We're going to die here. You can't get free. We're going to die."

"No. Paul…we aren't going to die. I won't let that happen. I'll get you out," Sam called, jerking his arms back and forth, biting back against the pain that the movement caused his injuries.

"You sound like…like a k-kid. How you gonna save us?"

"I will…I promise. Just…don't move, okay?"

A moment of silence had Sam ready to panic, but then the voice came again, soft and scared. "Okay."

Sam jerked harder, the boy biting his lower lip until it bled as the pain sliced through him. A low, menacing growl suddenly sounded from further to his right and he worked with more urgency to try and get free.

"NO! No please…nononono…" Paul's terrified voice sounded, causing Sam to cry out.

"Paul! Keep still…don't move…"

A shrill, pain filled scream filled the cavern, or cave, or whatever they were in and Sam yelled out, tears of frustration falling down his cheeks as he tried desperately to get free. The scream carried on as the sound of ripping flesh met Sam's ears. Suddenly, the scream stopped and the cave was filled with silence, safe for a horrible dripping sound. Sam didn't need to be able to see to know what that sound was. Sam stopped his movement as he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps moving his way. He instinctively tried to move back, but without being able to touch the ground, he couldn't move anywhere. His stomach roiled as the stench of blood and flesh filled his nostrils. Hot breath washed over his face and he squinted, the form of the Wendigo finally coming into view, the horrible creatures face mere inches from Sam's. It seemed to sneer as it raised what Sam made out to be a hand to it's mouth and closed its strong jaws over the appendage, the bones snapping as the creature devoured it.

Sam whimpered despite his attempt to remain stoic when the Wendigo moved closer to his face, one long fingered hand reaching up, the creature running its claws down Sam's cheek, the sharp nails drawing blood. The hand suddenly grabbed Sam's face, claws digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks. It turned Sam's head and moved in, Sam crying out as it ran its fetid tongue over the blood that flowed from the scratches it had left. The tongue moved down Sam's neck and then suddenly, it sank its sharp teeth into the flesh and muscle at the crook of Sam's neck. Sam screamed in pain, the terrified boy sure that this was to be his last moments on earth. The Wendigo surprised Sam though as it pulled away, slurping the blood from its lips before snarling and turning away. It shuffled away into the darkness, the sounds of its departure fading away until Sam was left in silence once again. Sam's body sagged in exhaustion and he had to take several deep breaths to keep from throwing up. He could feel blood trickle down his chest, soaking his shirt. His head began to swim and his eyelids began to droop as the adrenaline wore off and the pain and bloodloss took over. Sam fell into unconsciousness, the boy unable to stay awake any longer, unaware of the two hunters who searched desperately for him.

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John and Dean were at the end of their ropes. They'd been searching all day and now into the night and still there was no sign of Sam. The boy had simply disappeared from the face of the earth.

"Maybe he hitched a ride out of here," Dean said tiredly, his hand brushing through his cropped hair.

"No. He would have taken his duffel if he had intended to run away. He's around…somewhere," John answered, his voice sounding just as tired as Dean's.

"But where?" Dean queried, his voice rising in fear and anger.

"I don't know. I just…" John started, his face going almost completely white as a terrifying thought pushed its way into his head.

Dean turned to John, the young hunter suddenly so much more scared than he had been moments before. "Dad? What's wrong?" he whispered, afraid of the answer his father would give him.

"He wouldn't. No…he wouldn't do that," John said, more to himself than to Dean.

"Wouldn't do what!? Dad! He wouldn't do what!?" Dean cried.

John turned his gaze onto this eldest son and shook his head, his eyes showing so much panic, it made Dean draw back in surprise. "I…I told him that…I told him if anyone else disappeared in those woods that…"

"What, Dad? What did you tell Sammy?"

"I-I told him…I told him it would be on his head," John replied, his eyes falling in shame and absolute terror.

"Oh my god. How could you?" Dean said, his teeth clenched in anger, eyes burning as he glared at the man who had been his hero.

"I was so angry. I wanted him to realize just what he had done," John whispered, his voice hoarse.

Dean took several deep breaths. A fight with his father right now would not help Sam. He could wait until later for that. "Dad…do you think he went out there? Do you think he'd try to kill that thing on his own?"

John looked up, his eyes conveying the worst to Dean. "I practically told him to do it, Dean. I told him that the Wendigo had to be taken care of and then…"

"That's when you told him anymore attacks would be his fault," Dean said, more a statement than a question.

John nodded sadly, his feelings of failure deepening as he realized just what he'd done. Sam was most likely out there in those woods, hurt badly or dead. John suddenly slammed on the brakes of the Impala and cranked the steering wheel, spinning the car around until they were speeding in the opposite direction. They headed for the parking area where they had been before, the need to find Sam overwhelming both hunters. They both knew that if Sam had indeed gone to the woods to hunt the Wendigo himself, the odds were not in favor of him succeeding. They knew that Sam could already be dead. John turned to Dean, his eldest sons eyes boring into him with heated intensity. He turned back to the windshield and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, the black car speeding off like a bullet, a destination finally in sight.

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**Hmmmmm, Johnny...too little too late? Take care everyone and have a wonderful weekend.**

**Cindy**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's another chapter for you. I've had a few ask how many chapters this story is. Well, I have ten chapters completed at this point and all of the chapters have been posted on the other site I visit. I don't know how many chapters this will go. I only know where it starts and where I want it to end. How long it takes to get there is something I don't know. I hope you enjoy the next chapter.**

**Cindy**

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John and Dean finally pulled into the visitor parking area where they had been before and parked the Impala, both men exiting the car and slamming the doors shut. They walked to the trunk of the car and Dean stood impatiently while John turned the key in the lock. The trunk popped open and the men began to dig inside, pulling out everything they thought they would need in their search for Sam. John made sure to include the first aid kit in his pack before he straightened up and backed away. The hunters looked at each other, the fear for Sam reflected in both their eyes. They knew how difficult it would be to find the Wendigo's lair, and if the thing had gotten Sam, what the odds were that they would find the boy alive. They could only hope that Sam was still out in the woods somewhere and not in the creatures clutches. Dean shut the trunk with a resounding bang and backed up next to John. They surveyed the parking lot, noting that a green compact car was the only other vehicle in the lot. They looked at each other then headed for the trail. They made their way through the forest, watching for any signs that Sam had come this way. John looked through the trees, hoping against all hope to catch sight of his wayward son. The son that he had inadvertently sent out here, alone and unprotected and most likely feeling like his father hated him.

John shook the thoughts from his mind. He didn't have time to dwell on his shortcomings. He had to find Sam before the Wendigo did. He couldn't bear the thought of his baby being out here alone, hunting this creature. He'd known of so many seasoned, hard as nails hunters who had lost their lives hunting Wendigos. Men who had hunted for years, who knew what they were doing. Sam was just a kid. A kid who didn't even want to hunt in the first place. A kid who had been forced into it by a sick twist of fate. John had messed this one up royally. Even if he did manage to save his youngest son, he was sure that Sam would never look at him the same. After what he'd said to him, John didn't blame the kid. He'd blamed Sam for Dean getting hurt, had told him that if anyone else disappeared in these woods, he would be to blame for that too. What an arrogant, selfish piece of work he was. He constantly accused Sam of being selfish when it was he who thought only of himself and his quest to kill the thing that had taken his Mary from them. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten how to be a father, treating his boys like soldiers instead of sons. He was their drill sergeant, their commanding officer, and as much as Dean had embraced the lifestyle, Sam had fought against it.

John was pulled from his thoughts, cursing himself for allowing his mind to wander, just as Dean's had the day before. He looked up to find Dean gazing at him intently. "Huh? Did you say something, Dean?"

"I said, you aren't completely to blame for this," Dean replied, his eyes moving over the trees before trailing back to his father.

"How can you say that? I'm the one who said those things to Sam. I'm the one who didn't even check him over to make sure he hadn't been hurt. I'm to blame, Dean. Me and nobody else," John shot, his dark eyes sparkling with self loathing.

"I…I said some things to Sammy yesterday. Not very nice things. I basically called him a liar and told him he was selfish, called him a spoiled little brat. Dad, I told him to go to hell," Dean whispered. "And now…he may very well be there."

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"Uhnn…," Sam moaned as he slowly came awake, the pain in his arms and shoulder radiating throughout his whole body.

He pried his eyes open, the darkness once again greeting him. His stomach roiled at the smell of rotting flesh and he swallowed deeply to keep from vomiting all down his front. He took several deep breaths, scared at how hard it was to draw in the air. He knew that hanging like he was would be compressing his lungs, slowly suffocating him and he wondered how much time he had before he would succumb to the lack of air. He lifted his head up, the act taking so much effort he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep it up. He closed his eyes and willed himself to lift his chin so that he could look up to see just what kept him attached to the ceiling of the cavern. Once his head was leaning far enough back, he opened his eyes and gazed up. He cried out softly when all that met his eyes was darkness.

"Damnit!" he hissed, his head dropping, chest heaving from the exertion of raising his head.

Sam tried to move so that he could try to get a feel for what bound his wrists, but he couldn't feel anything binding them together. It almost felt as if his hands had been jammed through a crevice in the rock, the rock holding his wrists securely to the ceiling.

"Son of a bitch!" he cried out as he began to rock his body back and forth, the rock cutting into the tender flesh of his wrists enough so that he could feel warm wetness begin to trickle down his arms.

Despite the pain, Sam began to rock even more, hoping that maybe if there was enough blood to slick up his wrists, he'd be able to pull his hands free. The sound of rocks scattering along the cavern floor made Sam stop his movements, his eyes shooting in the general direction that he thought the sound was coming from. He heard a low growl and couldn't help but to try and draw back, knowing full well it would do him no good. He could go nowhere, was completely helpless at that point. He gave out a terrified whimper as he suddenly thought about his father and brother. They were right about him. He was useless. He was going to die in this cavern and they would never find him, if they bothered to even look. Sam swallowed as the thought that they would think themselves better off without him assaulted his mind. He could feel tears begin to build in his eyes and he became angry with himself. He'd said that he wouldn't cry one more tear. He wouldn't show anymore weakness.

Sam stopped struggling, the boy lifting his chin, eyes staring into the darkness as he waited for the Wendigo to come. If he was going to die, he was going to do it with his head held high. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't scream and he wouldn't beg. He would die a man's death. He was scared, no matter how hard he tried not to be, but he could control how he handled himself. His dad would be so proud. Sam sucked in a quick breath when he heard another deep growl and he held the breath, waiting for the pain that he knew would come. The pain did come and Sam almost screamed, but he bit his tongue to keep from making a sound. The creature had bitten into his other shoulder, just as it'd done earlier then it pulled away, once again slurping up the blood that covered it's mouth. Sam could barely see the Wendigo as he squinted, his panting breaths filling the chamber he was in. The creature was watching him and it almost seemed to be grinning.

"Why don't you just finish it!? Kill me and get it over with!" Sam shouted at the creature, his eyes never leaving the face that hovered just inches from his own.

The Wendigo hissed as it jerked back, then lunged at Sam, causing the boy to jump against his will. The creature hit Sam in the chest, forcing what little air he had out of him. Sam gasped as he tried to draw in air, his body swinging back and forth from the force of the creature's blow. Finally, he was able to draw in a short breath of air, but it was enough for him to ease the dizziness that was washing over him. Sam squinted his eyes against the darkness, watching the creature as it paced back and forth before him. He couldn't figure out why it didn't just kill him. That's what Wendigo's did. They captured hapless hikers or campers, dragged them to their lair then killed and ate them. They didn't play with them. They didn't taunt them. The creature stopped and moved right up to Sam. It reached out and grasped the back of Sam's head, drawing the boy's face to it, it's fetid breath washing over Sam, causing the boy to gag from the smell. It cocked it's head, it's eyes narrowing on the terrified boy. It squeezed Sam's neck, it's claws digging into the tender flesh before it let loose and turned, the creature shuffling away until Sam could no longer see it through the darkness.

Sam watched for several minutes, waiting for the creature to return and finish him off, but that didn't happen. Soon, the sounds of its retreat died away and Sam was left with only the sound of his own breathing. With the silence and the adrenaline crash, the pain in Sam's shoulder made itself known and the boy whimpered as wave after wave of sheer agony sliced through him. He relaxed his tense body and waited for the inevitable. The Wendigo would be back and it would kill him, of that he had no doubt. It may be playing with him now, but there was no way it wasn't going to kill him, eventually. Sam hung there, wariness and hopelessness weighing him down. He hoped that his family wouldn't find his body, the boy having no doubts that they would be looking for him. They may not love him and his father probably even hated him, but they would still look for him. It was the Winchester way. He just didn't want them to see his final failure. It would be better if they never found him at all. Those were Sam's thoughts as the darkness began to pull at him again and he didn't fight it as it dragged him under.

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John and Dean had been searching for hours and they had yet to see any sign of Sam. The only indication they had that they were right to be searching the woods was the fact that when they found the spot where the Wendigo had attacked, the flares that should have been there, lying in the grass, were gone. They came to the conclusion that Sam must have returned to the spot to gather the flares, having no other weapons to use against the creature. There was one thing that had bothered the men. Dean had been sure that only one flare had been fired the day before, but when they had been searching for the flares, they had found two that had been used. This had caused a terror to envelop the hunters, both wondering who had fired the second flare. If Sam had come to retrieve the flares and had been attacked, it was possible that he had shot off one of the flares. The men could only speculate as there was no other sign that Sam had even been there. It was completely possible that some other person had come across the flares and had shot one off. The hunters had felt an even greater sense of urgency when they had found the fired flare.

John tore through the forest, a man on a mission. He was so intent on his search that he almost failed to notice that Dean was no longer beside him. When he did notice Dean's absence, he went into full on panic mode. He jerked around, the man letting out a small cry when he saw Dean about ten yards behind him, the younger man leaning over, hands resting on his knees. He rushed back to his son and knelt before him, his hand reaching up to gently push Dean's head up so he could see his eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?" John asked with concern.

"Head hurts a bit, but I'm okay," Dean replied weakly.

John sat back on his haunches, cursing himself for forgetting that Dean had been injured the day before. He gazed around the forest, trying to decide what to do. His gaze fell back onto Dean and he shook his head. "We need to get you back to the motel," he said, his decision made.

Dean jerked his head up, the action making him wobble a bit on his feet. John reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him. "No, Dad. I'm not leaving Sammy out here. We can't."

"Dean, you have a concussion and you lost a lot of blood…"

"I don't care! He's my little brother and he's out here partly because of me!" Dean cried.

"Dean, Sam is out here because of me, not you. I'm the one who practically told him to come out here. You need to go back and rest. I can look for him."

"You take me back there, Dad and I'll just find a way back out here. I just need a minute, that's all."

John watched Dean for a moment, knowing full well that he meant what he said. John couldn't take the risk of having two sons wandering these woods by themselves. He reluctantly nodded and stood, taking Dean's arm and leading him to a downed tree. He helped Dean down onto the log and sat next to him, watching his son with concern.

Dean leaned over and rested his head in his hands. Running around the forest was definitely not the best thing for his concussion, but Dean wouldn't stop until he'd found his brother, hopefully safe and sound. His father's and his own hurtful words had driven Sam to come out here and he was damned sure not going to go back to the motel when Sam was still out here. He could feel his father's gaze on him and he looked up to see dark eyes watching him intently.

"I'm fine, Dad," Dean whispered, his head telling him that he was anything but.

"Yeah, right. You forget, Dean…I perfected I'm fine," John said, his hand moving to rest on the back of Dean's neck.

"It's my own damned fault, Dad! Me getting hurt…Sammy out here all alone? That's on me," Dean hissed.

"No, it's not. Sam never should have been out here in the first place. I made him come even though I didn't need him," John said softly.

"What? What are you saying, Dad?"

"I'm saying that Sam didn't need to be here. I'm saying that Sam could have stayed home and not missed those damn tests he was so concerned about…"

"Those damn tests and the fact that Sam said that you knew he couldn't make them up is the reason I said the things I did! It's the reason my mind wasn't on the hunt! Son of a bitch! Why, Dad? Why do you have to do shit like that? Do you enjoy hurting him?"

John dropped his head, his hands clasping together nervously. "Sam is so stubborn…never listens to me. I did it to let him see that he isn't the one who is in charge…"

Dean shook his head, the throb finally starting to die down a bit. "Did it ever occur to you that if you just let Sam make some decisions on his own, he may not fight you so much?"

"If I give him an inch, he'll take a mile and I…"

"No, Dad. That's not Sammy. If you give him an inch, he'll take an inch and give you a mile. You've just never given him the chance to prove that to you. It always has to be your way with Sam," Dean said sadly as he rose and walked away, leaving John to stare at his retreating back.

John had nothing to say to that. Dean was right. And now, because of his incessant need to keep Sam firmly under his thumb, he may very well lose his youngest son altogether.

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**Okay, that's it for now. Sam's hurting and at this point seems to be giving up. John and Dean are on the right track, but have no idea where the Wendigo's lair is. Not good. Not good at all. Take care.**

**Cindy**


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright folks, here is the next chapter. Just a quick apology. I tried to reply to your comments and part way through, the site wouldn't allow me to reply anymore. I've tried several times since, with no luck. So, this is huge thank you to all those that I wasn't able to reply to personally. You are all so wonderful. I continue to be blown away by the response to this story. Anyway, on to the story.**

**Cindy**

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John followed after Dean, not quite ready to catch up and see the look of disappointment that he knew would be in his eldest son's eyes. He deserved to be looked at that way, but he still didn't want to see it. He'd failed Sam miserably and it may very well have cost the boy his life. John may never see his youngest alive again and he had no one to blame but himself. What frightened John even more was the fact that if he did lose Sam, he would lose Dean as well. Dean would never forgive him. John could live with that knowing that he didn't deserve forgiveness, but what scared him was that Dean would follow after Sam. He wouldn't put it past his eldest son to take his own life, thinking he couldn't live without his little brother. The boy was Dean's life and John knew it. Sam was his life too, but he'd somehow forgotten that. His boys meant everything to him and he had fucked up so badly.

John shook himself out of his musings in time to see Dean stop and look around before heading off to his right, the young man storming through the trees, a man on a mission. John hurried after him, deciding he needed to suck it up and find out what had made Dean change directions. He caught up to his son and nudged his elbow. Dean glanced over at him, barely slowing his pace, the anger he held still apparent on his face.

"What's going on?" John asked, his voice hushed as his eyes surveyed the trees around them.

Dean gave John an annoyed look before he sighed and answered. "I thought I heard something."

Dean picked up his pace, leaving John a few steps behind and hurrying after him. They continued on for a few more minutes until Dean stopped again, the young man turning in circles, head cocked to the side.

"Damnit!" Dean hissed before he stomped off further down the trail, cursing as he went.

"Dean!" John called as he rushed after his agitated son.

Dean turned suddenly, his eyes wild as he glared at his father. "What!" he snapped.

"Calm down. You won't do Sammy any good going off half cocked…"

"Like you give a shit about Sam, Dad! You sent him out here…"

"No…not intentionally…"

"May as well have. After what you said…no…after what we both said. I can't put this all on you, but…god, Dad…he may die thinking we both hate him. He may already be dead and I…I can't take that…I can't…"

"He's not dead, Dean…"

"How do you know that? He's been out here how long? He's nowhere to be found. That thing has him and you and I both know that its not going to keep him alive for very long. It's already been too long," Dean cried, his face red with anger and fear.

John scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration as he eyed his son wearily. "Dean, we have to believe that he's still alive."

"I just keep thinking of him alone and scared and I can't do anything about it. I feel completely useless. Sam needs me and I can't even find him and he's going to die if he's not already dead and…"

John rushed to his son's side and grasped the young man's arm. "Calm down, Dean. You need to breathe," John said.

"I can't…I can't breathe…not until Sammy's back."

John dropped his head, fully understanding how Dean felt. He felt the same way…helpless…useless. But, he felt one more thing that Dean couldn't possibly feel. Unworthy.

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Sam squinted through the darkness, watching the shadows for any movement. He had lost the feeling in his arms quite some time ago and wondered if he'd ever get feeling in them again.

"What does it matter, you idiot? Not like you're making it out of here alive," Sam hissed to himself, giving out a hollow chuckle. "Great…I'm talking to myself now."

Sam closed his eyes and took in several deep breaths, or as deep as the hanging position he was in would allow. He swallowed against the sudden nausea that assaulted him, a side effect of the dizziness that seemed to be his constant companion lately. He wished the damned Wendigo would just get it over with and kill him already. He was starving and thirsty and in so much pain, death would be a welcome relief at this point. The greatest pain though was knowing that his family didn't care about him. He'd suspected that his father didn't, but Dean had come as a complete shock. He'd thought his brother cared. The way Dean protected him, said it was his job to watch out for him.

"Hrmph…like most people really love their jobs," Sam snorted humorlessly.

Sam's eyes began to burn as tears threatened and he blinked angrily against them, reminding himself of the promise he had made. "Frickin' baby," he shot, disgusted by his weakness.

This is not how he wanted his last moments to be. Giving up? Crying and feeling sorry for himself? No way. No freaking way. Sam looked up his arms and with renewed strength started to jerk his body, hissing as the rock that held him cut into his wrists. He continued to jump and jerk, ignoring the fresh blood that flowed down his forearms, hoping that the slick wetness would aid in his efforts to free himself. Sam gave out a cry of victory when he felt the hold on his wrists slip just a little. He stepped up his movements, this time frantically twisting his body from side to side. He gave out a startled yelp when his body suddenly dropped from the ceiling and plummeted to the rocky, unforgiving floor below.

"Uhnnn…god…" Sam rolled to his side, his arms useless as they limply lay next to him. He wondered if he'd ever get the feeling back in them again.

Sam lay on the rock floor, trying to catch his breath, waiting until he could use his arms again. He could feel the dull throb in his wrists where the rock edges had cut through his flesh, so he was certain that he would eventually regain the feeling in the numb limbs. Sam felt the fiery agony in his shoulders where the Wendigo had bitten him and he wished that they were numb instead of his arms. Minutes later, the first signs of needle pricks began in his lower arms and he knew he was in for some intense pain before the feeling finally returned. It was in the midst of this that Sam heard the low growl that announced the Wendigo's return to the cavern and he jerked his head in the direction that the sound had come from.

"Nononononono…" he whispered as he rolled his body until he was on his knees.

Sam panted through the pain that lanced up his arms, the pain ending in a crescendo of agony on both shoulders where the deep teeth marks resided. He couldn't feel the presence of the flares in the back of his jeans and his stomach dropped when he realized they must have fallen out as he was being carried through the woods to the creatures lair. Sam tried to use his arms, the limbs barely moving beneath him. The sound of the Wendigo's approach grew louder and Sam knew that he was running out of time. He scooted back as best he could until he bumped into what felt to be a large rock. He eased around the rock, hoping that he was at least partially hidden from view. He continued to work his arms, the feeling returning little by little, the pins and needles easing as the feeling returned.

Suddenly, Sam was grabbed, the surprised boy crying out against his will as he was thrown, his body hitting the wall with bone jarring force. He dropped to the rock floor, his body a bundle of agony as he tried to regain his feet, his eyes searching the darkness for any kind of movement. He inched along the wall, knowing that the creature was stalking him even though he couldn't see it. He heard a scuffling sound and made to move away from it, but a clawed hand grasped his arm and spun him around, tossing him again. He landed with a thud, but the ground beneath him felt different than the rocky hardness he expected. It was when he was feeling beneath him that he realized he could feel his hands and suddenly wished he couldn't when he felt cold, rubbery flesh beneath his fingers. He jerked up, hissing at the pain that shot through him at the movement. He scrambled over what he knew to be the Wendigo's unlucky victims, his stomach roiling at the odor of rotting flesh.

Sam finally felt cold stone beneath his hands and he pulled himself further away from the corpses, finally stopping when he could no longer hold in the meager contents of his stomach. He retched painfully, fully aware that he could be attacked at any time, but unable to stop the heaving. Finally, the retching stopped and Sam collapsed to the cold surface of the cave, gasping and drawing in deep breaths of cool air. He lifted his head from the floor and gazed through the darkness, wondering if the Wendigo had left again, wishing the damn thing would just quit playing with him. His silent question was answered when a rough, long fingered hand suddenly wrapped around his right ankle and began to drag him across the floor. He barely noticed the pain as rocks dug into his exposed back where his shirt had ridden up, the boy so intent on fighting to get free. His hands scrambled along the ground, trying to find something to defend himself with when suddenly the hand let go, dropping his leg unceremoniously to the floor.

Sam gripped the floor, feeling the small pebbles digging into his fingertips as he attempted to pull himself up into to a sitting position. He began to crabwalk backwards, sucking in a surprised breath when his fingers flitted over a cylinder like object. He closed his fingers around the object, sending up a prayer of thanks for what could be his salvation. He pulled the object to his chest and backed up against the wall, waiting for the creature to attack. He had a feeling that the time for playing was over and that the Wendigo was ready to go in for the kill. Sam couldn't let that happen. He knew that his family would still come to finish the hunt they had started and he would not allow the creature to live long enough to hurt Dean or his dad, no matter what they thought about him. He still loved them more than anything, even if they didn't feel the same about him and if it was the last thing he did, he would protect them.

Sam jerked back, his head hitting the hard rock wall behind him when the Wendigo appeared right in front of his face, the features coming into hazy focus through the darkness. He breathed in the same rancid breath as the creature sniffed over his face and neck. Sam prepared the flare, knowing it was now or never. Just as the Wendigo made its move, digging its sharp claws into his arm, Sam set off the flare into the bastard's chest while at the same time squeezing his eyes shut as the flame and sparks flashed over his body. The Wendigo let out a soul freezing screech as it lurched backwards, the monster clawing at its chest as the flare consumed it from the inside out. Sam lifted his arm up to cover his face as the creature exploded, fiery bits and chunks raining down upon the boy and the floor of the cavern. He collapsed back against the cavern wall and opened his eyes, seeing his surroundings for the first time in the glow of the still burning carcass.

Sam slowly pushed himself to his feet, the teenager swaying as he stood. He didn't dare look behind him, not wanting to see the bodies of the creatures unfortunate victims. He wondered if he'd be able to find his way out, not really knowing if he was in a cave or a mineshaft or what. He only knew one thing. He had to get away from the chamber, away from the carcass and the stench of human remains. Beyond that, he didn't know. He was certain that infection had set into the wound on his side and most likely would be on his shoulders too. He could feel every ache and pain now that the adrenaline was ebbing and he just wanted to lie down, curl into a ball and go to sleep. He sucked in a deep breath and banished that thought from his mind. He had to get out of here first and then he could decide where to go from there. He looked around for his jacket, wondering where it had been discarded. He couldn't see very well in the waning light and he didn't want to stay in this place any longer so he ditched his search for his jacket, wrapped his arms around his shivering body and stumbled down the first tunnel he found. He'd either find his way out of wherever he was, or he would become helplessly lost and die of starvation and fever, never to be seen again.

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Dean and John trudged on through the forest, their fears ballooning with each passing minute as they had yet to find any trace of Sam or a place where he could have been taken. They were losing hope of ever finding their youngest family member and their guilt was building as the minutes ticked by. Suddenly, Dean pulled up short, his hand reaching out to grasp John's arm.

"What?" John queried as he glanced sideways at his son.

Dean lifted his arm and pointed straight ahead, John following the direction his finger was indicating. "There…it's an opening of some sort," Dean said before rushing forward, hope finally filling him at the first sign that they may just find Sam.

John hurried after him and as both men reached the opening, they discovered it was the entrance to a long overgrown mine. Without hesitation, they plunged into the darkness, both pulling out their flashlights to light their way.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean shouted, his voice echoing off the rock walls as he was nearly running now.

"Dean…quiet! The Wendigo could be down here," John called as he rushed after his son.

"I don't give a flying fuck! Let it try to stop me from getting to Sammy!"

John shook his head as he picked up his pace in order to keep up with his eldest son. They ran on, taking this passageway and that, hitting deadends along the way and backtracking until they finally stumbled into a wide chamber. They panned their lights over the chamber, sucking in terrified breaths when they spotted the mangled remains of the Wendigos victims. Dean glanced at his father, the illumination from his flashlight showing him that John was just as scared as he was. They slowly made their way to the stacked corpses and reluctantly began the grim search for Sam. It only took a few moments for them to realize, with utter and complete relief that Sam was not among the rotting bodies.

"Oh, thank God," John whispered, the man leaning his body heavily against the rock wall to keep his weak knees from buckling.

"We gotta go, Dad," Dean said as he made his way back through the chamber, stopping suddenly and staring down at something on the floor near the furthest wall.

John stepped up beside him and followed Dean's light. They glanced at each other before both men turned their eyes back onto the charred and still smoking remains that littered the chamber floor. They looked at each other again, their eyes wide with wonder.

"You don't think?" Dean questioned, his voice filled with amazement.

John shook his head and looked back down at the blackened carcass. "Who else could it have been?" Pride filled the man, along with great relief. If Sam had killed the Wendigo, it meant he was still alive.

"Dad, this didn't happen that long ago and we didn't pass Sam along the way, so…where the hell is he now?" Dean asked nervously.

"I don't know. With all of the tunnels down here and if he's hurt, he could be lost," John answered, scared even more for his youngest son as he was very much aware that Sam could become lost in the maze of tunnels, never to see the light of day again.

"We have to find him! Let's go!" Dean cried.

John followed Dean from the chamber, noting with concern the way Dean held his injured side. The trek through the woods and then the tunnels had most certainly done more damage to his already damaged flesh and it couldn't have done his head injury any good either. John knew there was no way Dean was going to slow down now though, not with his brother most likely lost in the tunnels of the mine, hurt, alone and most likely scared out of his mind. John quickened his pace, the thought of Sam frantically searching for a way out of the mine urging him on.

"SAM! We're here, Sammy! Where are you!?" John yelled, hoping his voice would carry to his baby and let the boy know that he was not alone.

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Sam stumbled along, bumping into walls and tripping over rocks, jarring his injuries and sending searing pain throughout his body. It seemed like he had been going for hours and he wasn't sure how much more his body could take before it shut down altogether. Sam knew that if he went down, he would never get up and he would die in these tunnels, so he soldiered on, whispering commands to himself to keep moving and to not give up. He came around a slight bend in the tunnel and nearly collapsed with relief when he saw a faint glow in the distance. He hurried along, nearly losing his footing when his toes caught a rock jutting up from the ground. He barely slowed as he continued toward the light and finally came to the end of the tunnel. Two rusted doors blocked the entrance to the tunnel, light filtering in through the crack between the doors. Sam leaned into one door, putting his full weight into it as he tried to push it open. After several minutes, the door finally began to give and Sam pushed harder, needing to get out of the depressing darkness.

The door finally gave way, rusted out hinges breaking under the pressure and Sam tumbled through the opening and fell to the gravely ground outside the door. He lay there, pulling in deep breaths of fresh, cool air as he let his body rest. Sam slipped into unconsciousness, not aware of the frantic men who continued to search for him, only feeling the soft, safe confines of sleep as it cushioned him from the pain that he longed to escape from.

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**That's it for now. Hope you liked it. Take care.**

**Cindy**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay folks...are you ready for a reunion? Here you go. **

**Cindy**

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"SAM! We're here, Sammy! Where are you!?"

Dean glanced at his father and swallowed down his panic. Sam needed he and John to be strong right now. He needed them to keep it together, he needed them to not fall apart. There would be time for that later, after Sam was safe and back in their care. His eyes darted to the tunnels that fanned off of the main chamber they had found, the young man wondering which tunnel Sam had taken. He shone his flashlight down first one then another tunnel, frustration licking at his mind as no clue to Sam's route could be found. He panned the light further around, turning in a full circle until he faced the chamber that held the horrific remains of the Wendigos victims. He jerked his eyes away and followed the beam of light from John's flashlight, his own light moving over the rock walls again. Suddenly, John's light picked up something that the eldest Winchester didn't see and Dean cried out for him to pan his light back.

"Dad! There, go back there," he called, his light moving to a faint spot on the wall of the nearest tunnel.

John jerked his light to where Dean indicated and he sucked in a quick breath when he saw the spot too. He rushed to the tunnel and reached out with a shaky hand, his finger raking through the spot. He brought the digit up to his face and eyed it fearfully. He turned to Dean, who had come up to stand behind him.

"Blood. Fresh blood," he whispered as he gazed at Dean over his shoulder.

Dean couldn't take his eyes off the crimson stain on John's finger, his heart sinking as he thought of his little brother, lost, alone and hurt enough that he was bleeding. He pulled his eyes away from the blood and looked up at his father.

"Dad…we gotta find Sam. We gotta find him now!" Dean cried before hurrying down the tunnel, praying that they would find Sam in time.

John rushed after his son, the man dropping his hand to scrub the blood from his finger onto his jeans. He could never stand to have his children's blood on his hands, and this time it was there in more than just the physical way. This time it was there because of his actions. Sam was hurt because of him. Sam could die because of him. John shook his head against those thoughts. His self pity wouldn't help Sam in the least. It would only harm him further. He caught sight of Dean's bobbing light up ahead in the tunnel and he started to run, needing to find his baby. Needing to make things right again. Needing to do these things before it was too late to do anything but grieve.

"SAMMY!!!"

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Sam groaned as he rolled over, his entire body ablaze with agony, white hot flashes of pain burning through him as he attempted to rise from the cold, rocky ground. He grasped his right shoulder where the Wendigo had sunk its teeth into him and pulled his hand back only to see it wet with warm, sticky blood. He did the same to the other wound, sighing when he found the same results, but not quite as bad. Sam dropped his head back to the ground, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden nausea that washed over him. He breathed heavily through his nose until the nausea passed then tried to rise again. His arm went around his stomach as he gained his feet, the boy pressing his hand over the gashes in his side, feeling warmth there as well. A voice suddenly echoed up the tunnel from which he had exited the mine and Sam jerked his head around to stare into the darkness beyond. The voice screamed his name and Sam knew it was his father.

Sam began to panic at the sound of John's frantic call. He wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready to face his father. Wasn't ready to see the disappointment and disdain that he would surely see when he came face to face with the man who clearly wished he had only one son. He wondered why John was there, searching for him instead of with Dean. He felt sudden anger at his father. John should be watching over his eldest son, not wasting time looking for him. Sam shook his head, giving out a humorless chuckle. _'Couldn't wait to find me so he could rip me a new one again.'_

Sam took one more look down the dark tunnel before he turned and staggered away. He knew he would have to deal with his family eventually, but now was not when he wanted to do it. Not when he felt so weak. Not when he felt so vulnerable. He'd promised himself he would never cry again because of his family and Sam was sure that if he had to see John now, he wouldn't be able to hold the tears in. He just hurt so much and he was so damned tired. He needed to find somewhere that he could go to rest, maybe fix up his wounds. He refused to appear weak in front of his father. He refused to be that boy ever again. Sam continued along the path he had found, barely there, but easily seen with his trained eye. He had gone maybe fifty yards when another voice called out, bringing him to a sudden stop. He turned slowly, hissing at the pain that speared through his middle. His eyes widened at the two figures who rushed toward him, his gaze settling on the shorter, younger one of the two.

"Dean?" he whispered, his body suddenly very heavy.

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Dean hurried along the tunnel, his eyes never losing sight of the growing illumination from the path ahead. He was close to the end now and he hoped beyond all hope that Sam was there at the end of that path, hurt maybe, but alive. He could hear his father running behind him, closing the distance between them. He wanted to get to Sam first, afraid of what John would do when he finally saw his youngest son. Yes, John seemed apologetic. He seemed truly sorry for the way he had treated Sam, but Dean had to know for certain that John would remain that way when he came face to face with the boy. Dean would not allow his father to do anymore damage to his baby brother. They had already done enough. Dean let out a little cry when he came around a small curve in the tunnel and saw the opening at the end. He began to sprint, Sam's name on his lips as he burst through the opening and into the bright daylight beyond.

Dean stopped when he was a few feet from the rusted doors that had once blocked the mine entrance. He heard John pull up behind him and gave a quick glance over his shoulder. He scanned the forest for his brother, his heart sinking when he saw and heard nothing. He started toward the trees, stopping short when his father grabbed his arm.

"Let go of me!" Dean screamed as he tried to break his father's hold.

"Dean…son…look," John said, the man pointing to the ground just before them. "He's been this way."

Dean looked down and softly cried out. There on the ground, splattered and pooled over the course gravel, was drying blood. Dean followed a faint path away from the mine, looking for the telltale drops of crimson fluid, knowing it was leading the way to his brother. The Winchesters followed the trail, both men pulling up short when suddenly, up ahead of them, the object of their frantic search came into view. Sam was hunched over, obviously in pain as he staggered along the path. Dean started to move again, calling out for Sam to stop. Sam did stop and the boy slowly turned, his eyes widening when he met Dean's. Dean could see Sam's lips move although he couldn't hear what the boy had said. He and John rushed toward Sam, but stopped when he lifted a shaky hand, indicating for them to not come any nearer. The men looked on in confusion as Sam began to back away, his other arm wrapped protectively around his stomach.

"Stay back…please, just…leave me alone," Sam called, his voice trembling and sounding quite weak.

"Sammy…you're hurt. Let us help you," Dean cried as he started forward again.

"N-No…I'm fine. D-Don't need your help," Sam said as he backed away.

"Sammy…please," John started, his eyes pleading with his baby.

Sam turned his gaze upon his father and smiled sadly. He shook his head as he stared the man down. "Why are you here? Why do you have Dean out here when he should be in the hospital?"

"We had to find you, Sam," John replied, his hand grasping Dean's arm as the young man started forward again.

"Why? You don't n-need me. I'm a screw up. You said so yourself, Dad. I'm a waste of time…a waste of space."

"No, Sam…you're not. I love you, son…"

Sam let out an incredulous chuckle at his father's words. "You love me? Tell me, Dad. How could you love the one you blame for your wife's death?"

John's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open in shock. "What? Sam, I don't blame you for your mother's death. How could you think that?"

Sam shook his head slowly as his eyes drifted to the ground. He looked up again and both John and Dean gasped at the absolute misery they saw in the hazel orbs. "What do you tell me every time I ask you to tell me about Mom? What is the one thing you want to make sure I never forget? Both of you…what do you always tell me?"

"Sammy…we don't bl…" Dean started, his words cut off by Sam's weak voice.

"Your mother died, in _**your**_ nursery, above _**your**_ crib," Sam said. "That's the only thing either one of you think I need to know about Mom. Do you think that I'm so dense that I don't know what you think? You think I'm the reason she died."

"Sam…no, we don't," Dean said, tears falling from his tired, green eyes.

Sam glanced at Dean before turning his attention back to his father. "You should have saved her, Dad. You should have left me and saved her."

John stared in utter shock at his youngest son. How could he say such a thing? How could he think that John didn't love him? _'Maybe because you've done nothing but_ _criticize and cut him down,'_ John thought harshly.

"Sam, you don't mean that. I could have never left you," John said, the man taking a few slow, stuttering steps forward.

Sam stood stock still and eyed his father nervously. He attempted to take a step back, but wavered as sudden dizziness assaulted him. He squeezed his eyes shut to quell the vertigo, but opened them when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His family was just a few yards away now so Sam held his hand out again.

"Just…stay back. Please…" Sam pled, the boy's face suddenly turning as white as a sheet.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his hand reaching out, only to have Sam move away.

"No…can't…" Sam murmured before his eyes suddenly rolled up into his head and he pitched forward, the cold forest floor quickly coming up to meet him.

Strong arms wrapped around his chest, his body coming within inches of hitting the ground. John gently lowered Sam to the ground, turning the boy onto his back as Dean kneeled down on his other side, the young man reaching out to rest his hand on Sam's forehead.

"He's really hot, Dad," Dean said fearfully.

John glanced up at Dean before dropping his gaze back to his baby. He tenderly lifted Sam's blood stained tee shirt, hissing at the sight of the red, festering wound in his side. John tried to pull the shirt up further to check for more wounds, but when Sam moaned he stopped, reaching in his pocket and pulling out his pocket knife instead. He cut the shirt up the middle and carefully pulled it apart. Dean cried out softly when he saw the wounds on each of Sam's shoulders, the young man cursing in anger and wishing he could bring the Wendigo back just so he could kill it again.

"We've got to get him back to the motel. We need to get these wounds taken care of," John said, already moving his arms under Sam's knees and back.

Dean reached out and gripped Sam gently, helping his father lift his limp brother from the ground. Sam's gangly limbs flopped bonelessly as John moved through the forest, the boy's head bobbing against John's shoulder. Dean followed close behind, his eyes never straying from the shaggy head of his unconscious brother. It took nearly forty five minutes, but they finally reached the Impala and Dean rushed ahead to open the back door before he climbed in, his arms outstretched and ready to pull his baby brother in. Once Sam was settled, John shed his jacket and draped it over his youngest son. He rushed to the drivers door and climbed in behind the wheel the engine rumbling to life soon after. John peeled out of the parking area, his eyes glancing into the rearview mirror to see Dean softly stroking Sam's hair, the young man whispering words John could not hear.

John swallowed back his emotions, tears threatening as he watched his sons. He had caused this. This was all on him. Sam thought that he wasn't loved because John gave him nothing else to go on. He thought that John and Dean believed he was the cause of Mary's death, and why wouldn't he? The only thing that he was ever told was exactly what he'd said. They drove it in every time he asked about his mother, how she died in his nursery, flames consuming her as she was pinned to the ceiling above Sam's crib. No wonder the kid hated the life that had been decided for him. John's main goal was to find Mary's killer, and his baby boy thought that he blamed him for bringing that killer into their home. John gave one last glance into the mirror before turning his attention to the road before him. He'd make it up to Sam. As soon as the boy was better, his wounds tended to and healing, he would tell him how wrong he was. He would make Sam understand that he loved him more than life itself. He owed his baby that. He owed him so much more, but it was a start.

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**Well, not the type of reunion I normally write. The fluff was all one sided in this one. At least they got Sam back. I hope you liked it. **

**Cindy **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey! Here's the next chapter for you all. Angst aplenty in this one. Hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy.**

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John gazed in the rearview mirror, his dark eyes taking in the scene in the backseat. Dean continued to whisper to Sam as he stroked his hair, the young man completely zoned into his brother and nothing else. When Dean leaned over his brother and planted a tender kiss on his forehead, John nearly burst into tears. His baby never moved at any of Dean's touches, letting the elder Winchester know just how desperately bad off the boy was. Normally Sam would respond in some way to his brother's touch, leaning into the touch whether he was unconscious or not, but not now. John turned his gaze from the mirror, unable to watch the boys any longer.

The guilt was eating him up, Sam's words replaying over and over in his head. How could Sam think that he and Dean blamed him for his mother's death? That couldn't be further from the truth, but the boy seemed convinced that his family held him responsible. As John continued to think about it, he was able to see where Sam was coming from. The boy would periodically ask about his mother, wanting to know what she was like, but the truth of the matter was that it was just too painful for either of the older Winchester men to talk about her. They told Sam only what they deemed important and left it at that. John never in a million years even considered that it would come across as accusatory to his youngest. John could add this failure to the steadily growing list of things that made him a less than desirable father.

John pushed the thoughts out of his head. He needed to focus on the road ahead and on getting his baby back to the motel so that he could take care of his injuries. Nothing else mattered at the moment. Sam needed him to keep it together. He would just need to deal with his emotions later when Sam was safely tucked away into bed, his injuries cleaned and stitched, his fever taken care of. John stomped on the gas pedal, the Impala responding with a roar as it ate up the road, the car seeming to know how important it was to get to it's destination as quickly as possible. Twenty minutes later and the black beauty pulled into the parking spot in front of room 28, the tires screeching as the car came to a sudden halt. John jumped from the car and rushed around to the rear passenger side door. He yanked the door open and grabbed hold of Sam's legs. He gently began to pull Sam toward him, Dean guiding his brother until John was able to cradle the boy in his arms and lift him from his brother's grasp.

Dean climbed from the Impala and followed his father and brother to their room. He rushed around John and unlocked the door then pushed into the room, holding the door open so John could pass through. John hurried to the bed nearest the bathroom and carefully lowered Sam to the mattress, his hand moving to brush through messy, sweat soaked hair. He glanced up at Dean, the young man knowing immediately what was being asked of him without even a word. Dean hurried out to the Impala and returned a few minutes later, the large first aid kit in hand. This was the kit reserved for the most serious of injuries, the ones requiring stitches and drugs. The last line of defense before the only option left was a trip to the hospital. The hospital was the last place John wanted to take Sam. It was difficult enough explaining Dean's injuries, but to have to bring in his youngest with even worse injuries so soon after checking Dean out? John would rather avoid that if at all possible.

Dean set the first aid kit on the bed then started to help John remove Sam's clothes, both men being as gentle as possible to avoid jostling the boy too much. Once they had Sam down to his boxers, John was able to more closely assess Sam's injuries. He shook his head as he tenderly poked at the red, puffy wound in Sam's side, his eyes filled with worry.

"Dean, I need hot water and all of the washcloths and hand towels in the bathroom," John instructed. "Oh, and a glass of cool water. We need to try to wake him up enough to get some antibiotics and pain pills into him."

Dean nodded and rushed to do as he was told, the young man returning from the bathroom with the icebucket filled with hot water and the towels and washcloths shoved under one arm. He placed the water on the floor next to John then rushed to pull the table that sat under the window over to the bed. He lifted the water up and put it on the table then pulled a chair over for John to sit on. Next, he hurried back to the bathroom and came back a moment later with the requested glass of water. John nodded then turned his attention back to his youngest son. He began to tap softly on Sam's cheek, hoping to wake the boy so he could give him the medications he needed.

"Sammy…wake up, kiddo," John called, the man frowning when he received no response at all.

"Here, let me try, Dad," Dean said as he hurried around the bed and took a seat next to Sam's leg.

Dean reached out and lifted Sam's leg then began to softly tickle the tender area behind his knee. John watched as Sam twitched ever so slightly, the boy slowly coming around at his brother's soft touch. Sam moaned softly as his eyelids began to flutter. Dean stopped his tickling and moved up the bed. He cupped Sam's cheek, his thumb rubbing over the boy's temple. He smiled as heavy lids slowly opened and dazed hazel eyes peered up at him.

"Hey, Sammy. You're safe now," Dean said.

"D'n?" Sam murmured quietly.

"Sam? We need to sit you up for a minute son. I need to give you some antibiotics and pain pills. Are you up for that?" John asked softly as he took Sam's hand to get the boy's attention.

Sam rolled his head and gazed at his father. He nodded minutely then turned away. John sighed softly, but pushed his hurt feelings aside as he reached down and carefully began to lift Sam's shoulders up from the bed. Dean reached around Sam's back to help John lift him, the young man eyeing his brother with concern. Sam hissed as the movement pulled on his wounds, but that was the only sound he made. His hazy mind wasn't so far gone that he didn't remember what his family had said to him. He felt a hand cup the back of his head and he turned his eyes back to his father, surprised at the tenderness he saw in the man's dark eyes.

"Here, Sam. Open your mouth a little for me, okay?" John said.

Sam obeyed and opened his mouth. John placed three pills on Sam's tongue then lifted the glass of cool water to his lips. "Drink, Sam. Slowly," John instructed.

Sam sipped at the water, the cool liquid washing the pills down his sore, scratchy throat. He began to gulp greedily at the water, whimpering slightly when the glass was pulled away.

"Not too fast, Sammy. Don't want you to get sick," John said before he put the glass back up to Sam's lips.

Sam sipped more slowly until the glass was emptied and John placed it back on the table. He was slowly lowered back to the bed and as much as Sam tried to keep his eyes open, the fever and exhaustion soon pulled him back into oblivion, his eyes closing as soon as his head hit the pillow. John carded his hand through Sam's hair, his eyes gazing worriedly at his baby boy. Sam still didn't trust him, even in his weakened state and it hurt the man more than he would ever admit. He only had himself to blame for that. His own selfishness put Sam here. How could he have not seen how much Sam needed to know about his mother? The kid was expected to follow the life John had set for him, but he wasn't allowed to know the woman he was supposed to sacrifice his normal life for? John shook his head in disgust. No wonder Sam fought against this life. He didn't understand what kind of person his mother had been. He didn't know how much she had loved him. All he knew was that she was beautiful, based on the one picture John had allowed the boy to see, and that she died in his nursery.

"Dad?" Dean's voice cut through John's thoughts and the man lifted his eyes to his eldest son.

"What? Uh…sorry…I…What is it?" John stammered.

"We need to get these wounds cleaned and stitched. You want me to do it?" Dean asked, his worried eyes taking in his father's pale appearance.

John looked down at his unconscious son then back up to Dean. "Uh…no, I need to do it. I need you to help, keep the water hot and fresh," John said, the calm hunter taking over for the worried father.

"Yeah…just tell me what you need me to do," Dean said, his hand absently running up and down Sam's hot arm.

John nodded, reached for the first aid kit and got to work.

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Two hours later and John finally collapsed back in his chair, the exhausted man scrubbing his hand over his face. He jerked his hand away and stared at the crimson stains that covered his fingers, drying blood darkening under his nails. Sam's blood. _'So much blood,' _he thought forlornly._ 'Always so much blood.' _

"Dad, he's gonna be okay," Dean said hoarsely.

John looked up at his eldest son before dropping his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. "I know. He'll be fine…physically. Other than that, I just don't know," John said tiredly.

Dean gazed down at his sleeping brother, the boy's stomach wrapped tightly with white, sterile bandages. Both shoulders where thick with bandages also and Dean swallowed at the thought of the wounds beneath those bandages. Bite marks, deep and angry. Dean's blood boiled at the idea of the Wendigo feasting on his little brother. The Wendigo that said little brother took out, all on his own, seriously injured. Dean's eyes trailed to the bandages around Sam's wrists and nearly lost his lunch when he thought about how close they had come to losing him. They hadn't been there to save him from the pain he had endured, not when he needed them most. Dean smiled softly at the realization that Sam hadn't really needed them. He finished the hunt without them. _'Guess he proved us wrong,' _Dean thought._ 'Guess he's more of a hunter than we ever gave him credit for.'_

Dean looked back at his father and smiled. "I think all you need to do is look at what he accomplished, Dad. He killed the Wendigo even with those injuries."

"Yeah, I know all that, Dean, but that's not what I mean. I'm talking about…"

"I know what you're talking about. We screwed up, big time. Poor kid, no wonder he's been acting the way he has," Dean said, shaking his head as his gaze moved to Sam's lax face.

"It's just too hard…talking about your mother. It brings everything back…opens the wound," John muttered, dropping his head into his hands once more.

"God, Dad…I know that. I don't know if I can do it though. Even for Sammy…I just don't know," Dean said softly.

John stood and walked around the bed. He knelt next to his eldest son and grasped his arm. Dean turned weary eyes his father's way and waited for the man to speak. "Why don't we just worry about getting Sam healthy, Dean. We'll deal with the rest of it once he's back on his feet," John said, his voice sounding beyond tired.

"What if he won't talk to us? He didn't even want us near him out there. Did you see his face? Did you see the way he looked at us?" Dean cried.

John sighed as he sat back on his heels. "Yeah…I saw. That's on me, Dean, not you."

"No…it's not just on you. I'm as much to blame as you are. After he gave up asking you, he started asking me about Mom and I just blew him off. I don't know how many times I got pissed at him, yelled at him. Then, the other day…I went off on him."

John stared at his miserable son and shook his head. "Guess we both screwed up royally, huh?"

"Yeah…guess you could say that."

John squeezed Dean's arm then stood, his eyes moving back to his blood stained hands. He swallowed convulsively as he scraped his fingernail over his knuckles. "I gotta wash my hands," he said absently.

Dean watched as John moved toward the bathroom, the door closing silently behind him. He listened as the water came on then turned his attention back to Sam. He reached forward and rested his hand on his baby brother's forehead, smiling when the skin felt cooler instead of unnaturally hot.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, the young man coming to a decision that he hoped he could follow through with. "I promise…anything you want to know about Mom, I'll answer it. I should have done it before when you asked. I was so relieved when you just stopped asking. What an ass I was to you. We've both been to you. Dad and I love you, kiddo. Please know that."

Dean watched Sam sleep, shaking his head. He knew Sam was dead to the world and didn't hear a word he said, but it made him feel just a bit better saying it anyway. He'd just have to make sure to say it again when Sam was actually conscious again.

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**That's all for now. Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	9. Chapter 9

**First of all, I am having problems replying to reviews again, so I will just tell you all here how much I appreciate your kind words. I really tend to have confidence issues at times and its reviews like the ones I've received that boost me up so that I can keep writing. So, thank you all so much for taking the time to let me know what you think of the story. I'll try to keep the quality up, even when I'm not feeling as confident as I should. Anyway, on to the story.**

**Cindy**

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'_Twelve hours. Twelve freakin' hours! When is he gonna wake up?' _Dean thought as he paced the room, his eyes continually drifting to Sam's still form. The kid had barely moved during the night, even when John removed bandages and checked wounds, poking and prodding until Dean had to pull him away before he made things worse. Dean thought about his dad, shaking his head and chuckling lightly. He'd never seen John wound so tight. It wasn't like he had never seen Sam injured before, but it was the first time the kid had been injured as a direct result of John's negligence. Dean knew John was wallowing in guilt at what had happened. Hell, Dean was too. They both had acted poorly. They both had treated Sam harshly, their actions bordering on cruelty. Dean glanced again at Sam, amazed at how young the kid looked when he was sleeping, or in this case, was unconscious.

Sam looked all of five years old and Dean couldn't keep the soft smile from his lips. He walked over to the bed and sat down as carefully as he could, hoping to avoid jostling Sam too much. Sam's lips were slightly parted and small spit bubbles formed and popped as he breathed softly in and out. Dark lashes rested against flushed cheeks and Dean couldn't help the lump that formed in his throat as he thought for the thousandth time how close he had come to losing his baby brother. Sam was his life, his reason for breathing and he had somehow forgotten that for a time. He was back now though and he fully planned on making it up to Sam, just as soon as the kid was back on his feet. Right now, he had to focus on that. Getting Sam healthy and back on his feet. Then, he and their dad could begin the task of repairing the damage they had done to the relationship between themselves and the youngest member of their family.

Dean looked up when the door to the motel room opened, nodding lightly as John entered, the man's arms laden with take out bags from the diner down the street. John deposited the bags on the small table then looked over at his still sleeping youngest son.

"How's he doing? Any sign at all that he's gonna wake up soon?" John queried quietly.

Dean shook his head as he reached out and brushed strands of messy hair from Sam's eyes. "Hasn't moved a muscle," he said as he stood and made his way to where John had seated himself at the table.

John glanced at the bed, eyeing Sam with concern. He had expected his boy to be awake by now, but he wasn't ready to take him to the doctors quite yet. He'd give him a little while longer, hoping that Sam just needed the sleep and that something more serious wasn't going on. John turned back to the breakfast he had brought and watched Dean eat the food, the usual gusto he gave to enjoying each meal missing as the young man's attention kept drifting back to his injured brother.

"Dean…eat. He's right there," John said, his dark eyes gazing intently at his eldest son.

Dean turned his attention back to his father and meal and listlessly lifted the plastic fork to his mouth, the scrambled egg tasting like cardboard on his tongue. "Sorry, Dad, but it tastes like…nothing," Dean said with a disgusted grunt.

John eyed his son critically. He'd nearly forgotten that Dean had been injured just recently too, but of course, the young man was totally focused on his brother so John had followed suit. "How's your head? Any dizziness?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Dean glanced up, his brow creasing as he considered the dull throb behind his eyes. "I'm fine, Dad," he said, just as John had expected.

"Yeah, you're fine. You just got out of the hospital, Dean," John said as he shook his head.

"I'm okay. We need to worry about Sammy," Dean replied.

"No, you need to take care of yourself, Dean, if you want to take care of Sam. You won't be able to watch over him if you pass out yourself. I'll watch Sam. When you're finished with your breakfast, I want you to lie down and sleep," John commanded softly.

"Dad…" Dean began in protest, his eyes automatically moving to his brother.

"No arguments, Dean. You need to sleep."

"I slept last night."

"For all of two hours. You need more than that. This is an order, Dean. I'm not suggesting here," John said, his dark eyes leaving no room for any more protests.

Dean stared at his father, the young man giving up before he ever said another word. He knew he had been given a direct order, and you did not defy a direct order. "Fine, but I'm not really hungry," he said as he stood and moved to the bathroom.

John watched as Dean closed the bathroom door, the elder Winchester shaking his head at his son's one track mind. As much as John admired Dean for his devotion to his little brother, he worried about the young man too. John was afraid that devotion may someday get his eldest hurt, or killed. He knew without a doubt that Dean would give his life in a heartbeat for Sam, as he would himself, for both his boys, but John felt that it was his job to sacrifice himself for his family. Dean and Sam should not bear that burden. John looked up as the bathroom door opened and Dean stepped out, his street clothes exchanged for a tee shirt and sleep pants. Dean gave John a quick glare before moving to Sam's bed. He gazed down at his brother for a moment then moved to the other bed and laid down. He was convinced he wouldn't be able to sleep, but he was softly snoring within minutes of his head hitting the pillow.

John cleared the food from the table and placed the leftovers in the small fridge before he moved to the chair next to Sam's bed. He lowered himself into the chair and settled in. He watched over both his boys, but his main focus was on his youngest. He waited another hour before Sam started to show signs of waking up. The boy started to groan as he rolled his head on his pillow, his eyebrows creasing as his eyelids fluttered. John leaned forward and brushed his hand through Sam's hair as he did his part to bring his baby awake.

"Hey, Sammy. That's it, kiddo. Wake up," John coaxed, smiling when tired hazel eyes blinked open and stared up at him.

"Mmmmm…" Sam moaned, his hands lifting from beside his body, only to drop back down as the pain in his shoulders made a sudden, agonizing return. "Ahhh…"

John moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed as he gently pressed his hand against Sam's chest to keep him from rising. "Just keep still, Sam. Let me help you if you need to move," he said softly.

"Y's s'r," Sam rasped, the boy breaking into coughs that made John cringe, they sounded so painful.

"Take it easy, Sam. It's okay," John comforted as he carefully lifted Sam's upper body up from the bed to ease the coughing.

Sam gasped as the coughing and movement of rising pulled at his wounds, his entire body protesting as wave upon wave of pain washed over him. "Oh…god…," he cried pitifully.

John held Sam up until the coughing stopped then reached to the nightstand to grab the antibiotics and pain pills he had ready. He placed the pills in Sam's shaky hand then picked up the glass of water. He waited for Sam to put the pills in his mouth before holding the glass to the boy's lips. Sam gulped at the water at first, but slowed as John started to pull the glass away. John put the glass back up to Sam's lips and smiled as the boy sipped the water down. He pulled the glass away and placed it on the table then started to gently push Sam back down.

"Bth'rm"? Sam whispered, his large eyes glancing past John and toward the bathroom.

"Uh…okay. Um, let's get you up then," John said as he stood, his hands moving around Sam's back.

Sam hissed as John helped him move to the edge of the bed. John noticed though that aside from when Sam first woke up and stared up at him, the boy hadn't made eye contact one time. It hurt John, but he knew he deserved it. He would have to earn Sam's trust and respect again. John shook himself out of his thoughts and helped Sam to stand, his grip tightening around the boy as Sam's legs began to tremble.

"I gotcha, Sammy," John said as he took Sam's weight to his side.

"'s Sam," Sam said as he turned his head away and glanced at his sleeping brother. "D'n 'k?"

John looked over at his eldest son, surprised that the young man hadn't awakened when he had helped Sam up from the bed. "He's fine, Sam. He didn't sleep last night is all," John said.

"Oh," Sam whispered.

John smiled sadly then started to move Sam toward the bathroom. It took several minutes, Sam's hisses of pain killing his father, but eventually he got his son to the bathroom. Sam stood in front of the toilet, his face flushing with embarrassment at the thought that he wouldn't be able to stand to do his business without the help of his father. He glanced to the side where his father stood, but didn't look at his face. John understood Sam's embarrassment, but knew the kid needed to relieve himself.

"Hey, its okay, Sam. You don't need to be embarrassed," John said softly.

Sam didn't say a word as he did what he had to do, the boy mortified, but basically helpless. Once he was finished, John helped him to the sink where he washed his hands then the two started the painfully slow trek back to Sam's bed. John settled Sam back onto the bed, adjusting the pillows then pulling the blankets up around Sam's chest. Sam turned his head and gazed at his brother, sighing as he rolled his head back and stared past his father to the far wall.

"Uh…Sammy?" John started nervously.

"Sam," Sam said softly, his eyes never leaving the wall beyond his father's shoulder.

"Sam…I said some things and…"

"'s'k, sir," Sam slurred, his eyes beginning to droop as the pain medication began to work.

John watched as Sam slowly faded back into oblivion then, when the boy was fully asleep, he brushed a shaky hand over his face and collapsed into his chair. "Shit," he cursed, his dark eyes resting on Sam's young, lax face. He was so screwed. Sam wasn't going to let him off the hook on this one. Not easily at least. Not that he deserved to be let off the hook, but he had hoped nonetheless that Sam would go easy on him. John leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. He stared at Sam then looked over at Dean. His boys. His life. Everything that meant anything to him was right in this room. He had to do everything he could to keep them safe. There wasn't anything else in the world more important than that.

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Sam awoke a few hours later and glanced to the side of his bed. John was sitting, slouched in the very uncomfortable looking chair, chin resting on his chest as he slept. Sam rolled his head the other way and looked at Dean who was still out cold on the other bed. He was glad that Dean was okay, but it still hurt to look at him. The words that his brother had said still hung over him and he couldn't shake the pain they had caused. He had to do whatever he could to change his family's opinion of him. He couldn't bear to have them think of him the way they did. He couldn't stomach being seen as the weak link. He would change their minds. He would make them see him as an equal. He would do whatever it took to become the son that his father wanted him to be. He certainly couldn't remain being the son he already was if he ever wanted to be accepted as a legitimate member of this family.

Sam pushed himself up the bed, biting his lip against the pain the movement caused him. He ignored the pain as much as he could as he inched his legs over to the edge of bed. He sat up, holding onto the mattress to steady himself before rising slowly to his feet. His legs felt like rubber beneath him and he waited until he felt he could move without falling flat on his face. He slowly began to make his way toward the door of the room, needing to get out into the fresh air before the room closed in around him. He finally came to the door and turned the deadbolt as quietly as he could then pulled the door open and shuffled out into the late morning sun.

Sam inched along the walkway outside the door, the pain in his shoulders radiating down his arms and chest until he found it hard to breathe. His side throbbed with heated intensity and his legs suddenly felt as though they could no longer hold him up. He leaned against the side of the motel, his body sliding down the smooth vinyl siding until his butt met the concrete. He pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his arms to his sides. He rested his forehead on his knees and took a deep breath, or as deep of a breath as his aching body allowed. Sam lost consciousness right there on the sidewalk beside the motel room door, the Impala blocking him from sight of anyone passing on the road or through the parking lot.

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Dean groaned as he came awake, the time spent in one position making his body stiffen up. He rolled to his side, facing the back wall and stretched his arms above his head. He sat up and turned around to look over his shoulder, hoping that Sam was finally awake. What he saw made his blood run cold. He was looking at an empty bed, his father asleep in the chair next to the bed. Dean jumped up from his bed and rushed to the bathroom, flinging the door open only to find it completely empty. He rushed back out into the room, his heart filled with panic and grabbed his fathers shoulder, shaking the man sharply.

"Dad!" Dean screamed as his panicked eyes took in the room.

John jumped from his seat, his hand automatically reaching for the gun tucked into his jeans before he realized it was Dean who had awakened him. "What!? What's wrong, Dean?" John cried in alarm.

"Sam's gone! Why the hell did you fall asleep!?" Dean shouted, already heading for the door.

John jerked his eyes to the empty bed where Sam had been sleeping, his heart lurching in his chest. "Where the hell could he have gone? He could barely move when he woke up earlier!" John cried.

"He was awake and you didn't wake me up!?"

"Dean…he had to go to the bathroom."

Dean huffed as he flung the room door open and stepped out into the sunlight. He looked to his right and nearly passed out with relief when he saw his brother sitting there, but his relief was shortlived when he saw that Sam wasn't moving. "Dad!" Dean cried through the open door before he rushed toward his brother.

John rushed out the door and hurried to his boys, dropping down on Sam's other side as Dean checked the boy over. Dean pulled Sam's head up from his knees and cupped his face in his hands. "Sammy?" he called softly, his thumbs rubbing softly over Sam's cheekbones.

Sam moaned softly, but he didn't waken. His body began to list to the side and Dean grasped him before he could hit the ground. John moved to grab Sam and between the two of them they managed to lift the boy from the ground and carry him back into the room. They rested Sam back on his bed then Dean rushed to the bathroom to get a cold washcloth. He hurried back to the bed and rested the cloth on his brother's hot forehead. John was pacing next to the bed, his tired eyes taking in his baby boys sweat soaked body. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers ghosting over Sam's body before he looked up with angry eyes.

"You said you'd watch over him. You ordered me to go to sleep and then you fell asleep when you were supposed to be taking care of him!" Dean hissed.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't realize I was that tired," John said as he sank down on the chair.

"He's burning up, Dad!" Dean cried.

John reached over and rested his hand on Sam's arm, wincing at the heat radiating from the boy. "It may just be from sitting in the sun. I'll get some more washcloths and we'll cool him down. If we need to, we'll get some ice and pack it around him."

"I can't believe nobody saw him out there. Don't they have room cleaners at this place?" Dean said, his eyes once more gazing intently at his unconscious brother.

"They may have already passed by our section, Dean. Sam'll be fine," John said as he returned from the bathroom with the wet washcloths.

John draped the cool squares over Sam's arms and then lifted his tee shirt before draping another over his chest and stomach. He sat down again, his eyes moving to Dean before coming to rest on Sam's face. Together, the two watched over Sam, neither man speaking as the minutes ticked by, both relieved beyond belief when Sam's heated body began to cool down with their ministrations.

"This can't happen again, Dad. We can't be so careless with him," Dean's tired voice whispered and John looked up into his green, bloodshot eyes.

"I know. I shouldn't have fallen asleep, Dean. This was my fault," John replied.

"No. You were up all night too. We're both exhausted, but Sammy needs us. I'm up now, so why don't you lie down and get some sleep. When you wake up, I'll go get some dinner," Dean said as he absently brushed chocolate fringe from Sam's closed eyes.

John gazed at him a moment then stood and walked to the other bed, the tall man falling onto the mattress and closing his eyes. He listened as he heard Dean get up and move across the room. He heard the refrigerator door open and close and then the sound of the microwave as Dean heated up his soggy breakfast. It was just a few minutes later when John heard Dean stuff the diner containers into the garbage and move back to Sam's bed. John knew that Sam was in good hands. Nobody could take better care of the boy than his brother and it made John a bit sad to think that he couldn't provide as much comfort to his baby as his eldest son could. He'd remedy that, if Sam gave him the chance. He fell asleep, praying that Sam would forgive him and that he would once again hold a place of respect in his youngest son's heart.

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**That's all for now. Not much action, but there will be more of that coming. Take care all!**

**Cindy**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey!! Bonus chapter! You'll really get the idea of just how damaged Sam is. Read on....**

**Cindy**

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The next time Sam awoke, the room was nearly dark, the sunlight faded away from behind the drawn curtains. The only light in the room came from the single lamp by the table where John and Dean were now sitting, talking in hushed voices. Dean cast a quick glance toward Sam's bed, his eyes widening when he saw his brother awake.

"Sammy! You're awake. How are you feeling?" Dean rambled as he hurried to the bed.

Sam pushed himself slowly up, brushing off Dean's help when the older brother attempted to grasp his arm. "It's Sam and I'm fine," Sam rasped coolly as he scooted up against the headboard, his head falling back to rest against the fake wood.

Sam's reaction took Dean by surprise and he pulled back from his brother as he swallowed back the hurt he felt. "Uh…okay. Sorry, Sam," he whispered.

Sam looked his brother up and down, his eyes searching for something and Dean had no idea what that something was. Finally, Sam looked into Dean's eyes and Dean felt a small glimmer of hope. "Are you okay?" Sam asked softly, a small hint of his usual warmth in his voice.

Dean nodded and scooted closer to Sam's hip. "I'm good…thanks to you," he answered, the young man nearly trembling by his need to touch his younger sibling. To have even a small connection to the person who not too long ago seemed glued to his side.

"Don't thank me…you got hurt because of me," Sam said, his voice cool once again.

"You know that isn't true. You got that monster off of me, Sammy, and I'm alive because of it," Dean said as he leaned forward, making sure Sam looked him in the eye.

"If I were so great, you wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. I should've seen it coming…"

"No, I'm the one who wasn't paying attention. You got hurt because of me, not the other way around. I'm to blame, not you," Dean cried, hating the direction the conversation was taking. He and his dad had really done a number on his kid brother and he could see it wasn't going to be easy to fix it this time.

"You may see it that way, but others don't," Sam said, his eyes moving in John's direction, but not quite falling onto the man.

Dean followed Sam's line of vision until his gaze landed on his father. He pursed his lips and turned back to Sam. "Hey…I know what Dad said, but he knows now what happened," he said, sighing when all Sam did was move his eyes to the window.

They sat this way, in silence, for several moments until John decided it was time for him to speak up. "Sam, look…I know I jumped to conclusions and…" he started until Sam held a hand up to stop him. "It doesn't matter, sir. It's in the past," the boy said, leaving John to stare at him in stunned confusion.

Sam suddenly threw the covers from atop him and swung his legs gingerly over the edge of the bed. Dean leapt to his feet and hurried around the bed just as John stood, both men moving to help Sam up, but the boy waved them off then started for the bathroom. They watched the boy shuffle into the small room and shut the door behind him then they turned to each other in absolute shock.

"Dad…what the hell is going on?" Dean cried, his eyes moving back to the door when he heard the shower turn on. He moved to the door and tried the knob, but turned back to his father when he found the door locked.

"I don't know, Dean. He was distant when he woke up before…wouldn't even look at me. I get that and I deserve it, but the rest of it? It's not like him at all," John answered as he moved next to his son and tried the door himself.

Dean shook his head then proceeded to knock on the locked door. "Sammy? Open the door, kiddo. It's not safe right now for you…"

"I'm just taking a shower. I'll be fine," Sam called from behind the door, once more leaving his family stunned at the cool tone in his voice.

Dean stared at the door then turned away and moved toward the table where he plopped down, his eyes finding the floor and staying there. John sat opposite his son, but his eyes remained on the bathroom door.

"He's never looked at me like that before, Dad. I know what I said hurt him, but he's got to know that I didn't mean it. I didn't mean what I said…I was just frustrated and angry," Dean muttered dejectedly.

John reached across the table and rested his hand on Dean's shoulder, his heart breaking at the pain he heard in the young man's voice. "Hey, he'll get over it, Dean. He just needs time. Maybe we should just drop the whole subject for now. It'll blow over…this is Sam we're talking about," he said, giving Dean a quick smile when the younger hunter turned to look at him.

"You sure about that, Dad? He seems pretty hurt," Dean said in reply.

"Yes, your brothers feelings were hurt, but he'll bounce back. Once his wounds heal and he's not in physical pain anymore, he'll be fine."

"I hope you're right, because I want my little brother back," Dean said sadly.

"I'm positive that within a week, everything will be back to normal and your brother will be the emotional teenager we've come to know and love, raging hormones and all," John said with a chuckle.

Dean smiled though he didn't look completely convinced. He sat up straight when the water shut off in the bathroom and he waited for the door to open. Within a few minutes, Sam emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following his towel clad body into the main area of the motel room. Sam glanced quickly at his family before his searching eyes left them in pursuit of his duffel bag. He found it at the end of his bed and slowly made his way toward it, his body dropping tiredly to the corner of the mattress. The bandages had been removed from his shoulders and side, and both John and Dean silently let out relieved sighs that all of the wounds looked to be healing fine, the infection that had been raging in the side wound looking less puffy and red than it had when they first pushed into the motel room.

Sam leaned over and pulled the bag up from the floor, the boy hissing as the movement pulled on his various injuries. Dean stood and made his way to his brother. "Hey, we need to bandage you before you get dressed, kiddo," he said as his eyes searched for the first aid kit.

Sam glanced up before dropping his eyes again. "I can do it," he quipped shortly as he made to rise from the bed.

Dean reached out and gently pushed Sam back to the mattress. "No, Sam…I'll do it. You just sit tight, okay?" he said.

Sam pursed his lips, but remained silent. He listened as Dean moved around the room collecting the items needed. He came to sit beside his brother and proceeded to bandage both shoulders, the young man being as careful as possible so as to not cause his little brother any more pain. Once the shoulders were done, Dean guided Sam back until he lay on his back. John moved over then, wanting to check the wound in Sam's side before it was bandaged. The jagged cuts were still a bit red and puffy, so John retrieved the antibiotic ointment and spread a generous amount over the wound. Dean covered it with a thick square of gauze then taped it in place.

"All done, Sammy," Dean said as he helped his brother to sit up.

"Thanks," Sam whispered.

Sam waited until Dean moved from the end of the bed before he dug through his duffel to find a loose fitting pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. It took him several minutes, but eventually he got himself dressed. His socks and shoes came next and proved to be the most difficult for Sam. He finally got them on then looked over at his family.

"Going somewhere, Sam?" Dean asked cautiously.

"I figured we'd be heading back to Salem now. Not sure why we kept the room in the first place," Sam murmured.

"Uh…you were unconscious and I wasn't about to drive fifty miles before I was able to get a look at you, Sam," John said from his seat at the table.

"Well, I'm okay now, so we may as well head back," Sam said.

"I think we can head back tomorrow. It's late and we've already paid for tonight. Don't worry, Sam, I've talked to your teacher and he's going to allow you to take those tests you missed when we get back," John said in reply, smiling slightly when Sam whipped his head around, the boys eyes gazing directly at him for the first time since he first woke up.

"What?" Sam shot, his eyes wide with surprise.

"I talked to your principal and to Mr. French, explained how you were hurt during our _camping_ trip. Mr. French agreed to let you make up the tests you missed," John replied.

"I'm not going back to school," Sam said shortly as he turned away from his father.

"Uh…what? What do you mean you aren't going back to school?" John shot, his eyes narrowing in surprise.

Sam shrugged nonchalantly as he moved to sit back down on the bed. "What's the sense? Schools almost out for Summer and I won't be going back in the Fall…"

"Whoa, whoa…what are going on about, Sam? Of course you're going back in the Fall. What's going on with you?" Dean cried, completely thrown by his brother's words.

"Hey, I'm only going to school to keep CPS off our backs. I'll be sixteen next month, so I can drop out if I want and they can't do a thing about it," Sam said matter of factly, like he hadn't just made the most ridiculous statement he could have made.

"You love school, Sammy. Where the hell is this coming from?" John said, his dark eyes watching his son intently.

"School doesn't really fit in with our lifestyle and you know it. You can't tell me you don't wish I wasn't in school anymore," Sam huffed.

"Sam, the age sixteen thing isn't the rule in every state and there are stipulations even in the states where it is possible," Dean said, arching his eyebrows at John's questioning look.

"I don't see that it really matters. We move around so much, how the hell would anyone know I'm not in school?" Sam shot with frustration. "What's the big deal anyway?"

"The big deal is is that you are staying in school. No arguments either. We're heading back to Salem tomorrow and you're going to go take your tests you missed then you're going to take your finals next month and once school's out for the Summer break, we'll head out to the next hunt," John said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Sam shook his head and turned his back to his family. "Yes, sir. Whatever you say," he murmured.

"What was that, Sam? I didn't quite catch that?" John shot with a hint of anger.

Sam turned to face his father, his hands fisting at his sides. "I said yes, sir," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Sam…" John started.

"Hey…hey, ease up, guys. Can we please just not fight for a change?" Dean cried as he looked from one frowning Winchester to the other.

Sam glanced at his brother and took a deep, calming breath. He turned to his father and eased the tension from his body. "I'm sorry, sir. I guess I'm just tired. If you want me to stay in school, then I'll stay in school," he said softly as he dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Sam, I…"

"I'm hungry. Can we go eat?" Sam asked, effectively cutting his father off.

John sighed as he watched his youngest shuffle his feet on the dirty carpet. "Yeah, if you feel like eating, we can go to the diner down the street," he said softly.

Sam wasted no time in moving to the door and walking out of the motel room, leaving his father and brother to watch his retreating form with surprise and confusion. The men quickly followed Sam out and soon the Impala was pulling away from the motel, the three Winchesters silent as they moved down the road.

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**Five Weeks Later-Salem Oregon**

Sam stood in the back yard of the rundown house they had been living in the past months, his face illuminated by the fire that burned brightly in a tall metal drum. As was the family's usual routine, they would burn anything that they did not plan to take with them to the next town. Sam crouched down next to the backpack that sat at his feet and dug the contents out. He ran his fingers over the worn cover of the first paperback and swallowed back the lump in his throat as he stood and tossed the book into the fire. He continued to toss books into the fire until the backpack was empty then he crouched once more and collected a thin book from the grass. He glanced at the cover and bit at his lower lip. He read the words that covered the front, a feeling of sadness washing over him. _**'Sprague High School-Home of the Olympians'** _was printed in bold script across the top of the book and below that _'My Friends' _was printed in smaller letters. Sam opened the book and read some of the words that his classmates had written to him. He had managed to make a few friends at this school and the thought of leaving brought with it mixed emotions for the now sixteen year old. With one last look at the cover, Sam threw the book into the fire and watched as it darkened from the flames, the corners curling before it was completely consumed.

Sam squared his shoulders and turned to head back to the house. He didn't have time nor room for books or for memories of people he'd never see again. He trudged up the back stairs and entered into the small, dimly lit kitchen. His father and brother were busy packing what little packaged food they had into a box, both men looking up as he walked into the room.

"Hey, Sam…what were you doing out there?" Dean questioned, sighing as Sam's eyes fell to the floor, something that had become the norm ever since the events in Gresham.

"Just taking out some trash," Sam said softly before he hurried from the kitchen toward his bedroom.

"Sam…" John called, the man turning to his eldest son, a look of frustration on his face at the sound of Sam's door closing, effectively cutting the boy off from his family.

"So…still think he's going to get over it, Dad?" Dean queried, his green eyes staring intently at his father's face.

"He's just being stubborn. He'll get tired of the act soon," John said, his eyes saying something completely different.

"I don't know. He's never been in one of his funks for this long before. I don't know how much more I can take," Dean said, his eyes staring down the darkened hallway where Sam had disappeared.

"Well, one positive thing has come from it. He's really stepped up to the plate with the training and he's been more focused on the family business," John said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"See, I don't know if that's a positive, Dad. It's not him. He seems almost…desperate...and resigned. I just don't know what to think of this sudden change," Dean replied.

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean. This is what we've wanted from him for so long. Maybe he's finally growing up."

"He's sixteen, for craps sake! He shouldn't have to grow up so fast!"

"Dean…if he's going to survive this life of ours, he has to grow up. I'd say it's about time."

Dean shook his head as he glared at his father. "There's something going on here, Dad. It's not right. Sam's not…Sam anymore," Dean huffed in frustration.

John rolled his eyes at his son's statement. "Don't be so dramatic, Dean. Of course he's still Sam. He's just finally caught up with the program," he said.

"Maybe…I just don't know," Dean said softly.

"Hey…why don't you go get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow," John said, smiling as Dean shuffled from the room without a word.

John sighed as he moved to sit at the table. He had to admit that Sam's behavior these past weeks had been off. As much as his newfound devotion to the hunt pleased him, John couldn't deny that Sam had lost some of himself somewhere along the way. He knew it had something to do with what happened in Gresham, but every time he tried to talk to Sam about what had happened, his youngest had immediately changed the subject or suddenly remembered something very important he had to do. John knew that it was the same for Dean. Eventually, John had given up trying to figure out what was going on in his baby's mind and just accepted that for whatever reason, Sam was finally on the same page as him.

John sat for a few more minutes then followed his own advice and headed off to bed. Five o'clock came very early and he needed his rest for the long drive he had ahead of him.

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**The Next Morning**

Dean and John walked out onto the front porch, the eldest Winchester pulling the door closed behind him. Sam was already in the car, yet another thing that went against everything the men were used to. Usually, Sam was the one dragging his feet, trying to stall their departure as long as he possibly could. Sam had been up and moving around at four that morning and had been in the Impala for over fifteen minutes by the time his family emerged from the house. The men approached the car, John moving around to take his place behind the steering wheel while Dean ducked his head into the back window, his eyes falling over the books on Latin and Demonology that surrounded his kid brother. Missing was the backpack that Sam always had with him and Dean frowned, knowing that Sam would get bored with the textbooks and would soon be looking for his ever present paperbacks.

Dean reached into the front seat and removed the keys from the ignition then strolled to the trunk. He opened the trunk lid and rummaged through the various items, reaching deep in toward the back when he spotted the red and black pack. He pulled the backpack out, frowning when he realized the pack was empty. He slammed the trunk lid shut then hurried back and climbed into the front seat. He turned in his seat and held the backpack out for Sam to see.

"Hey, where are your books, Sam?" he queried, arching his brow when Sam looked up at him.

"Uh…I didn't need them anymore," Sam answered, his hazel eyes betraying his matter of fact answer.

"Sam…those were your favorite books. _Moby Dick…Crime and Punishment…Last of the Mohican_s? What did you do?" Dean cried softly, his eyes moving over to John before coming back to rest on his brother.

"I burned them. They were just taking up space and it's not like I haven't read them a million times. Its not big deal," Sam replied, his stomach suddenly in knots.

"That's the whole point, Sam. You loved those books. In fact, I didn't see any of your stuff other than your clothes. Did you burn everything?"

"I only kept what I needed."

"Sam…"

"Can we just drop it? I don't need the books. I don't need any of that other stuff. There's only room for clothing and necessities. Books and school awards are not necessities." Sam said, his voice showing no malice, just sad resignation.

"Fine…whatever," Dean muttered as he turned around.

Dean tossed the backpack onto the floor at his feet and cast a furtive glance at his father. John stared back and Dean could see that the man was as confused and worried as he was. John could no longer deny nor ignore that something was horribly wrong with his youngest son, but at the moment he didn't have time to worry about it. There was what appeared to be a werewolf at large in Wyoming and people's lives were at stake. Sam and his problems would have to wait until the people of Jackson Hole were once more safe to hike the forests around their town without the fear of being torn to pieces. John pulled away from the curb, the man taking a moment to glance at his youngest in the rearview mirror. A curtain of dread settled in the man's mind, but he shook it off and turned his eyes back to the road ahead of him. Sam would be fine, he was just going through a phase. At least that's what John tried to convince himself of as they left the city of Salem behind.

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**So, that's it for now. If any of you have time, I have updated my profile with a few thoughts brought on by at least one apparent Sam hater that I have reading (well, maybe not anymore) this story. While I agree that everyone has a right to their own opinion, hate is not something I happen to condone. My thoughts in my profile are not meant to offend anyone, but they are something I feel strongly about. I love Supernatural and feel it is a very special show and the reason it is so special is the bond between the two brothers. It's natural that bonds will be tested and things will not always be rainbows and lollipops and I'm happy that Eric Kripke understands that, but I have absolute faith that the brothers bond will be restored, stronger than ever. They deserve it and we deserve it. Love to you all!**

**Cindy**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here's the next chapter folks. John gets a wee bit busted. Hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

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**Two Days Later-Jackson Hole Wyoming**

Dean sat sprawled on one bed in yet another motel room, the TV remote held loosely in his hand, thumb clicking absently at the buttons as he half watched the television and half watched the room door. Sam was at the local newspaper researching the attacks that occurred during the last full moon, leaving Dean to pretend that he was interested in what was on the boob tube and not nervous about Sam being out of his sight. Dean turned to look briefly at the bathroom door when the sound of the shower turning on caught his attention. John had been going for two days without much sleep and had decided a shower would wake him up enough to prepare for the nights hunt. It was the first night of the full moon and the man was determined that no one else would fall victim to what he were certain was a werewolf. Sam's research was to determine the best place for them to start their hunt.

Dean turned back to the television and resumed his clicking when the sound of John's cell phone ringing had him dropping the remote on the bed beside him and climbing off the bed to retrieve the phone from the small table near the door.

"Dean Winchester," Dean said as he answered the call.

"_Dean? Where's your father?"_

"Uh…he's in the shower. What do you need, Pastor Jim?" Dean answered, wondering why his father's old friend was calling.

"_Oh, well, maybe I should call back when your father is available."_

"He may be a while, but I can get him a message for you," Dean said as his eyes moved to the door of the bathroom.

_"Well, I suppose I could tell you. Just let your father know that if he still wants Sam to come stay here for the Summer, I've got plenty to keep the kid busy with. I have a lot of repairs that need done."_

Dean cocked his head at the Pastor's words. He hadn't heard anything about Sam going to Jim's for the Summer and he felt sudden anger well within him. "Oh, when did Dad talk to you about Sammy coming there for the Summer?" he asked, keeping the anger out of his voice as best he could.

_"Dean, maybe I should talk to your father. You've obviously not been made privy to this and I don't think I should be the one to tell you."_

"Too late. Cats out of the bag now. Please, just answer me," Dean replied, thinking he already knew the answer.

_"I can't, Dean. This is between you, Sam and your father. I'm sorry I said anything. Just let John know that I called and if he wants to yell at me, he can give me a call."_

With that, Pastor Jim ended the call, leaving Dean to stare at the bathroom door, his eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare. He set the phone down and sat on one of the chairs at the table, his eyes never leaving the bathroom door. John had a lot of explaining to do and Dean wasn't going to let up until he got an answer. He didn't have to wait long as a few minutes after ending the call with Jim, the shower turned off. About five minutes after the shower turned off, John emerged from the bathroom clothed in a clean tee shirt and jeans. He glanced around the room, his eyes falling upon Dean's scowling face and his defenses immediately went up.

"Uh…something wrong, Dean?" John queried as he moved to sit in the other chair where his boots and socks were waiting.

"I don't know, Dad, you tell me," Dean shot, the young man crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at his father.

"Tell you what? You gotta give me more to go on," John shot back.

"Were you going to tell me that you planned to leave Sammy at Jim's for the Summer?" Dean queried, the coolness in his voice leaving no doubt that he was truly pissed.

John's eyes widened as they slid to the cell phone on the table between them. "I take it Jim called?" he asked as he rubbed his hand over his newly shaved face.

"Yeah, he did. And imagine my surprise at hearing that he had plenty to keep Sam busy over the Summer," Dean snarled as he jerked out of the chair and turned on his father.

John stood and glared back at his son. "Watch your tone with me, Dean. If I think Sam needs to stay at Jim's for the Summer, it's my call and you have no say in it," he hissed as he moved closer to his son.

"Does Sammy know? Or were you going to just drop him off with no warning?" Dean asked, the young man not backing down in the least.

"I didn't say anything to Sammy because I changed my mind. There's no reason for him to even know about it," John said shortly.

"Why, Dad? Why were you going to send him there?"

"At first? I was still pissed and I thought he had caused you to be hurt. It was to be his punishment…"

"Punishment? Keeping he and I separated was going to be his punishment? Did you ever stop to think that you would have been punishing me too? Did it ever occur to you that your so called punishment would have been cruel? God, Dad…you really are a piece of work, you know that!?"

"Dean…I'm warning you, change your tone or…"

"Or what!? You gonna send me to Jim's too?"

"No…will you just listen to me!"

"I'm listening, Dad."

"At first, when I thought Sam had caused you to be hurt, I was angry and wanted him to understand just how badly he had screwed up. Then, when I found out the truth, I figured it would be good for Sam to take the Summer off to recover and…"

"And what, sir? Get with the program?" Sam's voice called from the now open room door.

Both Dean and John jerked their heads toward the door and the youngest member of their family. Sam stood just inside the room, his hand still on the door handle, hazel eyes filled with hurt.

"Sammy…" John started as he moved toward his son.

"Just…don't. You want me gone, I'll go, but I'm not going to Pastor Jims," Sam hissed as he moved toward his bed and the duffel that sat upon it.

"I don't want you gone, Sammy…"

"Its Sam! Why can't you get that through your head!? I'm not a little kid anymore!" Sam cried, his face red with anger.

"Whoa…Sam…calm down," Dean said as he moved in between his father and brother.

Sam eyed his brother with narrowed eyes then took a deep breath to calm himself. He turned his gaze back to John. "Do you want me gone, sir?" he asked coolly.

"No, I don't want you gone, Sam. I don't want you going to Jims. I want you with us," John replied.

"Fine. Here's what I found at the newspaper if you want to look at it. I'm going to the diner," Sam said shortly as he tossed his notebook onto the bed then moved to the door.

"Sam…I'll come with you," Dean started, the eldest brother casting his father an angry glare before moving after his brother.

"I'd rather be alone, Dean," Sam said before he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Dean stood completely still, his eyes watching the door where his brother had just been. He made a move toward the door, but a firm grip on his arm stopped him.

"Let him go, Dean. He'll be back. We need to look his notes over," John said.

"Oh, so once again, the hunt takes priority over Sam? Something is very wrong with him, Dad," Dean snapped.

"When this hunt is done we'll talk to him. People are dying, Dean and…"

"And nothing's more important than those people…not even Sammy. Yeah, I got it, Dad."

"Dean, that's not true and you know it. Sam isn't in danger of dying, the people of Jackson Hole are. Once we get this hunt over with, we'll figure out what's going on with your brother," John said, wanting nothing more than to drag his boys away from this town and find out what was wrong with his youngest.

"Yeah, fine…whatever. Once this hunt is done though, we take Sam to Pastor Jims…no…Bobby's and we get this whole mess figured out," Dean shot as he moved toward Sam's bed and retrieved the notebook.

Dean took the notebook to the table then dropped down in a chair and began to read, the young man not even acknowledging his father when the man sat down opposite him. Neither man spoke a word as they poured over Sam's notes just as neither admitted that the notes were the last thing on their minds. The only thing either could think of was the boy who was probably just scooting into a booth at the diner down the street and probably thinking even more now than before that his father didn't love him.

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The three hunters emerged from the Impala and immediately scanned the forest around them. It wasn't quite dark yet, but it would be soon. The two older hunters moved to the trunk of the car and pulled the weapons they would need from beneath the false bottom. Dean handed Sam a silver knife and a handgun filled with silver bullets. The boy took the weapons without a word and began to move toward the treeline.

"Sam…wait for us," Dean called, sighing when Sam turned and gave him a heated glare. Sam did halt though, to which Dean was grateful.

Once Dean and John were laden down with their own weapons they met up with Sam and without a word, the three began the long trek to the spot they had determined would be the most likely area to trap the werewolf. They hiked for over two miles before they came to the camping area where most of the attacks had occurred. John glanced around the area, picking out spots for each of them. He turned to his sons, surprised to find Sam standing tall with his shoulders squared, looking him straight in the eye.

"Uh…okay, I want you over behind that tree Sam and I'll be on the other side of picnic area, behind that dying pine. Dean, I want you to start a campfire and just do the whole hiking thing. It'll be…"

"Wait! He's gonna be bait!?" Sam cried, his eyes moving between his father and brother before resting on John.

"Yes, Sam. Dean will draw the werewolf out into the open and hopefully either you or I will have a good shot on the son of a bitch," John said, bracing himself for the fight to come.

"Don't you think I'd be the better bait? I mean, I am the weak one after all," Sam said sarcastically, his hazel eyes narrowing as he glared at his father.

"Sam…this isn't the time nor the place. Dean is the bait. You are to go behind that tree and I'll go behind that one. We will wait until the werewolf shows itself and then we will kill the murdering bastard. Do you understand?" John said through clenched teeth, his youngest son trying his patience yet again.

Sam pursed his lips as he glared at his father. Finally, he nodded lightly and looked away. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir," he spat as he moved toward his appointed hiding spot.

"Sam," Dean called, but the youngest hunter ignored him and soon was concealed by the tree and tall grass that grew at its base.

Dean looked at his father and shook his head. He moved to the fire pit and pulled out his matches and lighter fluid. He and John searched the area for kindling, Dean also finding a discarded bundle of firewood that some picnicker had left behind. Soon, there was a fairly good sized campfire burning. Dean sat on the wooden bench that had been erected next to the pit and looked up at his father.

"Keep your eyes and ears open, Dean. Sam and I will be watching too. This bastard dies tonight," John said as he rested his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Be safe, son."

"I will, Dad. You too…and…keep an eye on Sammy," Dean said in reply.

"He'll be fine, Dean. Don't let your worry over him distract you," John said before he moved off into the trees.

Once Dean was alone, he glanced over to the tree where Sam had hidden himself. He wondered what was going through his brother's head. He really missed his pain in the ass little brother. He missed the emo moments and the smile and the puppy dog eyes. He missed the soft, warm voice that Sam always spoke with and the great geekiness that was his little brother. All of that was gone now, replaced with a person who was almost robotic in his actions. He never fought against having to train, or spar or any of the other things that Sam had hated doing before. Plus, the kid was getting really good. He'd managed to pin Dean just yesterday, something he'd never achieved before. Dean had thought that if Sam was ever able to pin him, he'd be all smiles and dimples, but Sam had merely shrugged his shoulders at Dean's and John's praise and walked away like it was an everyday occurance, like it was no big deal.

Dean shook himself from his thoughts knowing he needed to focus on the hunt right now. He'd have time to ponder what was wrong with his little brother once the werewolf was dead. John had promised that they would take the time to find out what was going on, and Dean had every intention of holding the man to his word. A sudden growl from somewhere behind where John was hidden had Dean jerking his head in that direction and reaching behind his back to pull his weapon from the waistband of his jeans. There was a loud crashing sound then a surprised, painfilled cry before a dark figure ripped through the underbrush and into the clearing where Dean was sitting. The glow of the fire illuminated the gigantic wolf and Dean could see the saliva as it dripped from large, sharp teeth. The wolf stared dangerously at Dean before it sprang toward him, a ferocious howl tearing from it's snarling lips as it hit the hunter before he even had a chance to bring his weapon around.

Dean gasped as the wind was knocked out of him as he hit the hard ground. He flung his arms up to protect his face, his hands wrapping around the throat of the wolf as it snapped its razor sharp teeth at him. He could feel his strength waning and was terrified that he would not be able to keep the wolf from biting his head off for very long. He heard his name being screamed, but it seemed to be coming through a thick veil, like he was under water or something. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and the wolf cried out in pain and rage. It leapt from Dean's chest and ran off into the trees, the frightening howl sounding again and echoing through dark forest. Suddenly, Sam was kneeling over him, his hazel eyes wide with worry and Dean couldn't help but think that he looked more like the old Sam right at that moment than he'd looked in the last month and a half.

"Dean…Dean…are you okay?" Sam cried as his eyes skirted over his brothers body, looking for any sign of blood or bone.

"'m fine, Sam…Dad…" Dean mumbled, his head fuzzy from the knock he received when he hit the ground.

Sam looked up and over to where John had hidden himself, his eyes moving frantically over the trees when he saw no movement in the underbrush. "I don't see him. I can't leave you, Dean. I…"

"Just get me sitting up and get me my gun," Dean said, his head clearing as worry washed over him.

Sam got up and moved above Dean's head then he leaned over and gripped Dean beneath his shoulders. Together, the two got Dean sitting up and leaning against he wooden bench. Sam retrieved Dean's gun and once he was sure his brother had a firm grip on it, he rushed toward the large pine that had been his fathers hiding place. He found John, out cold just beneath the tree. Blood covered the right side of Johns face, but Sam couldn't see what other damage had been done. He pulled his penlight from his jacket pocket and turned it on. He played it over John's face, frowning at the bruises that were mostly hidden beneath the blood. He reached his fingers out to John's neck and sighed with relief when he felt a strong pulse. He patted John's cheek, hoping to rouse his father. He didn't think the werewolf would stay gone long and he wanted to get his family to the safety of the Impala as quickly as possible.

"Wake up…you need to wake up, Dad," Sam coaxed as he continued to tap his father's cheek.

John's eyelids began to flutter as he moaned low in his throat. Sam sat back and watched intently as John came awake, his dark eyes staring up blearily. Finally, his eyes came to rest on Sam and Sam almost smiled when recognition showed on the eldest Winchester's face.

"Sam?" John groaned as he tried to roll onto his side.

"Yes, sir. Can you move?" Sam replied, the boy automatically reaching down to grasp John's shoulders.

"W'rs Dean?"

"By the fire. We need to get out of here before the werewolf comes back. Can you get up?"

"Uh…yeah."

Sam stood and pulled as John pushed up from the ground and soon the two were stumbling back toward Dean, John leaning heavily on his youngest son. Dean was on his feet and peering at them as they emerged from the trees and the young man deflated with relief upon seeing his family. Sam led his father toward the fire pit and then eased him down onto the wooden bench. He turned to his brother and peered into his eyes, happy with what he saw.

"We need to go," Sam said as he reached down to help his father up from the bench again.

With Sam and John in the lead and Dean stumbling behind, his eyes ever watchful, the three made their way up the path toward where they had parked the Impala. It was slow going, but eventually the car came into sight and all three hunters sighed with relief. John dug through his jeans, pulled the car keys from his pocket and tossed them to Dean. Dean unlocked the front door of the car then reached back to unlock the back door so that he and Sam could get John inside. Once John was situated on the back seat, Sam took the keys and ran to the trunk. He retrieved the first aid kit and handed it to Dean.

"Here, you need to fix Dad's head up," Sam said as he pulled his pistol from the back of his jeans. "He most likely has a concussion."

Dean eyed his brother curiously then turned to begin work on his father. When John jerked his head around to stare over Dean's shoulder, his dark eyes wide with surprise, Dean followed his line of sight, the young man straightening as he watched his brother disappear down the path they had just come up, his heart dropping into his stomach.

"Sam! SAMMY!!!" Dean screamed, his attention torn between his possibly seriously injured father and his little brother who had apparently taken it upon himself to hunt the werewolf down and finish the hunt on his own.

Dean looked from the path to his father and back, an impossible decision needing to be made. Run after his brother and leave his injured father at the car, vulnerable to a possible attack or stay with his father and leave his brother to hunt the werewolf on his own and possibly never see him alive again. Dean turned once more toward John and his decision was made for him as his father listed to the side and nearly took a header out the door, the eldest hunter being saved only by Dean's fast reaction. Dean pushed the now unconscious man back into the back seat then climbed in beside him. Dean cast one more glance down the path before taking up the first aid kit. He began to work on John's head, but his mind was on his brother, the young man praying that he'd see the little pain in the ass again.

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**Uh oh...I left you with a cliffy! How mean! Well, you'll only have to wait a few days to see what happens next! Please review!**

**Cindy**


	12. Chapter 12

**I swear I'm gonna go crazy with this site! It's giving me problems again when trying to reply to comments! Crappity crap crap!! Thanks everyone who took the time to comment. You know how much it means to me! I appreciate all who read my stories, whether you comment or not. I wouldn't do this if it weren't for all of you. So, lets get to the story, shall we?**

**Cindy.**

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Dean worked feverishly on John so that he could get to Sam before his idiot of a little brother got himself killed. After wiping away the blood from John's head and face, Dean was relieved to see that it was a small cut that was causing all of the drama. He was just pressing a butterfly bandage over the wound when John started to come around. Dean sat back as John's dark eyes opened, the man blinking up at him with apparent confusion. Dean waited impatiently for the confusion to be replaced with recognition and luckily he didn't have to wait long. John's eyes cleared and he carefully sat up, his hand going to the cut at his hairline.

"Don't, Dad…you'll get it bleeding again," Dean snapped as he pulled John's hand away.

John glared up at Dean before his eyes moved over his eldest son's shoulders, his eyes narrowing. "Where's Sammy?" he queried fearfully when he didn't see his youngest.

Dean followed John's line of sight and swallowed nervously. "He…uh…he went back after the werewolf," Dean murmured as he backed out of the Impala.

"He what!!" John shouted, the man scrambling to exit the vehicle, his knees nearly giving out on him as he made it to his feet.

Dean grasped his arm and pushed him back onto the backseat. "He got us back to the car then just took off. I'm going after him," Dean said as he retrieved his weapon from the ground next to the car.

"Not by yourself you aren't," John shot as he once again attempted to stand, his face turning two shades of pale as he staggered back into the frame of the car.

Dean rushed forward and steadied his father, his eyes filled with concern. John dropped back onto the seat, his shaky hand going to his head. "Dad…you can't even stand. I have to…" Dean started, but the sound of a gunshot halted his words and he jerked his head around, the young man instantly in full panic mode.

"Son of a bitch! SAMMY!" Dean screamed, the young man taking off at a full on sprint.

John pulled himself from the Impala, the man's heart dropping to his stomach as the echo of the gunshot reverberated through the dense forest. He took three unsteady steps before he was brought to his knees by a wave vertigo. He fell forward, his hands stopping him from face planting in the dirt. He lifted his head, his frantic eyes searching the trees for his sons.

"DEAN! SAM!" he screamed, his worst fears staring him right in the face as he wondered if he would ever see his boys again.

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Sam ran through the trees, his brother's panicked voice following him as he ran deeper into the forest, his eyes searching for any sign of the creature that had hurt his family. He knew it wasn't smart to be out here alone, but the werewolf had to be taken care of before it killed anyone else and his father was in no shape to be out there and Dean had been hurt too, so that left him to finish the hunt on his own. Besides, the bastard had to pay for hurting his family. Despite everything that had happened over the past weeks, he still loved his father and brother more than anything and would do whatever he could to make sure that they were safe. It was his turn to be the protector. His turn to show that he was just as capable as his father and brother, and maybe, just maybe they would be able to forgive him for the pain his existence had brought to their family all those years ago.

Sam shook those thoughts from his mind. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. Now was not the time to be feeling sorry for himself. He continued on through the trees, his pace slowing so that he could listen for any noise that didn't belong. He had been running for about fifteen minutes when he thought he heard what sounded like a deep growl coming from the dense foliage to his right. He came to a sudden halt and tilted his head, his ears trying to decipher whether he had heard the growl or if it was his mind playing tricks on him. He jerked his head around when the bushes that stood about fifteen feet off the trail rustled as something large moved through them. Sam brought his arm up, gun in hand and turned toward the sound of the rustling.

Without warning, the werewolf burst through the trees, startling the teenager enough to make him stagger backward. He pulled the trigger of his gun just as the werewolf sprang into the air, the bullet just missing the creature. The werewolf slammed into Sam, knocking the teen to the ground, his gun flying from his hand and skittering over the forest floor. The werewolf hit the ground and immediately whipped around and began its attack again. It leapt at Sam, but the young hunter was able to get his feet up in the air, catching the beast in the chest and flipping it over his body, the creature rolling over the grass and small trees before it leapt to its feet again, a rage filled snarl rolling over its black lips.

The werewolf attacked again, its teeth snapping at Sam as he did all he could to hold it at bay with his feet while trying to reach the gun that was just past his fingertips. The werewolf lashed out with razor sharp claws, catching Sam's upper right thigh. Sam cried out as the claws sliced through his jeans and flesh. He rolled his body slightly to the left and that's when he felt the pressure of his silver knife dig into his hip. He pushed at the werewolf as hard as he could with his feet and rolled onto his right hip, his hand reaching across his body to pull the knife from its sheath. His muscles burned as he held the werewolf at bay, adrenaline thankfully pumping through his veins, giving him the extra strength needed to keep the strong jaws away from his vulnerable flesh. His legs began to tremble at the abuse, his right leg on fire where the wolf's claws had sliced him.

The wolf pushed forward, tiring of the game and finally going in for the kill. Just as Sam's legs collapsed and the wolf lunged for his throat, Sam brought the silver knife up, burying it deep into the chest of the werewolf and piercing the beast's heart. The werewolf let out a furious howl as it dropped down, trapping Sam beneath it, it's body writhing through its death throes before it fell limp, its snout draped across Sam's throat, blood seeping from its nose to saturate Sam's shirt collar and jacket. The hilt of the knife pressed into Sam's side causing waves of pain to radiate out from his previous injury, but try as he might, Sam could not push the beast from atop him. Dark spots danced before his eyes as he attempted to pull in more air, the werewolf's dead weight compressing his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Between the pain in his leg and the pain in his side, coupled with the lack of oxygen, it didn't take long before Sam lost his fight to stay conscious, the darkness pulling him under just as Dean's panicked voice screamed through the trees, the elder brother crashing onto the scene a few moments later.

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Dean crashed through the forest, his arms up to protect his face from the branches that sought to bite at his skin, his only thought was to find his brother before he didn't have a brother to find anymore. He came to a sudden stop, listening for any sound that would let him know where his brother was. His blood turned to ice in his veins when he heard the unmistakable sound of Sam crying out in pain, the cry coming from up ahead and to his right. Dean took off again, his panic kicking up a notch at the hair raising howl that erupted in the semi darkness, the full moon casting a eerie glow over the forest. Dean forced his legs to work harder, his need to get to his brother driving him on despite the throbbing in his head and the exhaustion that threatened to bring him down. He'd let Sam down so many times lately, he refused to let him down again.

Dean crashed through a small stand of trees, his body coming to an abrupt halt at the scene he had stumbled upon. The werewolf's body lay sprawled on the ground, but that wasn't what sucked the very air from the young hunters lungs. What sucked the air from his lungs was the sight of his little brother trapped beneath the werewolf. What nearly caused his heart to stop beating was the fact that Sam was not moving. Dean jerked himself out of his shocked paralysis and sprang forward, the frantic young man dropping down next to the two inert bodies, his eyes zeroing in on the blood that soaked into Sam's shirt and jacket just below where the werewolf's snout lay across Sam's throat. Sam's dark eyelashes stood out in stark contrast to his pale cheeks and Dean couldn't contain the sob that broke from his mouth at the thought that Sam looked dead.

Dean reached out shaky hands and pushed the creature's head away, the elder brother nearly collapsing with relief when he realized the blood came from the wolf and not from Sam. Sam's eyelids fluttered as he slowly regained consciousness and Dean nearly cried out at the sight. Dean stood and pulled with all his might to get the werewolf off of his little brother, finally rolling the creature to the side enough so that he could get a good look at the damage that had been done to the teen. Sam's eyes slowly opened and he stared up at Dean as the older hunter knelt down next to him. Dean reached out and cupped Sam's cheek, a relieved smile curling his trembling lips.

"Hey, kiddo. You scared the shit out me, you know that?" Dean said as he turned Sam's head to look for any injuries.

Sam remained silent, the teen squeezing his eyes shut as pain pierced his side and leg. He opened his eyes when he felt Dean take his face into both hands. Dean's eyes were filled with concern and Sam swallowed against the emotions that raged through him. "D'n?" he whispered, his lungs still burning from the abuse they had taken.

"I'm here, Sam. Are you hurt anywhere? Did that fucker bite you?" Dean answered, his eyes staring intently at Sam's face.

"M-My leg…and side…" Sam replied, his head rolling slightly to the side when Dean let go and moved down his body. "Didn't bite me though."

Dean glanced up and smiled then returned to his inspection of Sam's body. He was thankful for the light that the full moon offered as he hadn't thought to grab his flashlight in his panic. He pulled Sam's jacket open the lifted his tee shirt, sucking in a breath at the dark bruise that was already forming on Sam's still healing side. The bruise wasn't big and it didn't take long for Dean to figure out how Sam had gotten it. Next he moved to Sam's leg, his eyes widening in worry at the shredded jeans and steadily growing crimson stain. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and outer shirt then pulled off his tee shirt. He balled the tee shirt up and pressed it over the wound the wrapped his outer shirt around Sam's leg, tying the arms tightly enough to help slow the bleeding but not enough to completely cut off Sam's circulation. Dean looked up at Sam's face when the younger hunter hissed in pain.

"Sorry, Sam, but I gotta do it to stop the bleeding," Dean said apologetically as he once more moved up to Sam's head. "Do you think you can walk or do you want me to carry you?"

"N-No…I can walk…don't need to be carried," Sam replied weakly, his hands reaching out to grasp Dean's.

Dean carefully pulled Sam up into a seated position then moved behind him, allowing Sam to lean back into his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and just let the boy rest for a few moments, relishing the rare moment when his little brother actually allowed him to touch him. Ever since the Wendigo, Sam had been distant and cool. He had not been himself and it worried Dean to no end. Dean knew that his father was worried too, but in a way, John was also happy with the way Sam had thrown himself into the training when before he did it grudgingly. Things had been so strange and messed up that Dean had yet to have the talk he had promised himself he'd have with Sam and even worse, he had failed to apologize to his brother for the words he had said that day in the woods. In his defense, he had tried early on to apologize, but Sam had always managed to change the subject before Dean had gotten a chance to say what was on his mind. Eventually, he'd stopped trying, irritated that Sam wouldn't listen to him.

Dean pushed that all out of his mind. He had to think about getting Sam out of these woods and back to the motel so he could take care of his wounds. He also had his father to think about. The eldest hunter most probably had a slight concussion and that meant that between his father and brother, Dean wouldn't be getting any sleep for the next several hours. Finally, Dean decided they needed to move. He shifted behind Sam and his little brother tensed at the movement.

"Hey…its okay. I need to get you up and moving though. I need to get you and Dad back to the motel so I can fix you both up," Dean said softly, his hand gently grasping Sam's arms as he pushed to his feet.

"Is Dad okay?" Sam questioned as he looked over his shoulder and up at Dean.

"Yeah…he'll be fine. Good thing he has a hard head. You did good, Sam…getting him and me back to the car. But, we're going to have to talk about this sudden need of yours to go running off by yourself after the big monsters," Dean said, his voice taking on an authoritative tone.

Sam turned his head and lowered his eyes to the ground. "Had to kill it, Dean. It nearly killed you and Dad," he whispered dejectedly.

"Yeah, well its not up to you to go off alone. You were nearly killed and then what would Dad and I do? Huh?" Dean shot back, anger darkening his voice.

Sam mumbled something that Dean couldn't hear so the older brother leaned over and craned his neck until he was looking Sam in the eye. "What was that, Sam?"

Sam lowered his eyes to his lap before he looked back up. "I said that you'd both be better off," he whispered.

Dean's face turned a deep shade of red as anger washed over him at his younger brother's words. He grabbed Sam by the shoulder, not caring that the action caused the teen pain. "You stupid little son of a bitch! How can you say something like that!? Do you really think we'd be okay if you died? Huh?" he hissed as he gave the younger boy a hard shake.

It was Sam's turn to get angry and he jerked around to face his brother. "Dad doesn't give a shit about me! He never has! I'm sorry that I said it about you, but its true about Dad!" he shouted, the teen wrapping his arm around his aching side.

"That's bullshit, Sam! Dad loves you. He's just not all touchy feely about it," Dean snapped.

"You don't know how it feels, Dean," Sam said softly, all of the anger gone, replaced with a deep seeded sadness that seemed to always be with the youngest Winchester.

"How what feels?"

"To be second best. To never be considered good enough. To be seen as a waste of space." Sam turned away at that and Dean noticed his shoulders begin to shake slightly.

"Sam, that's not true. Dad doesn't…"

"It is true! When have you ever heard Dad tell me I did a good job? When has he ever praised anything I've done? Never, Dean…not one single time!" Sam cried, his tears coming in earnest now. He lifted his hand and brushed angrily at the tears as he turned his head away from his brother again.

Dean stepped forward and crouched down next to Sam. He reached out and rested a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Sammy…look, I know…Dad can be a jackass sometimes, but he loves you and he is proud of you…"

"No, he isn't…but, I guess maybe I don't deserve it anyway. I can see why he doesn't care," Sam whispered as he turned onto his hip and tried to push up from the ground.

Dean grasped Sam's arm and helped him up, his arm wrapping around Sam's waist to steady the younger hunter. "You're wrong about Dad, Sam. He'd die for you, that's how much he loves you."

Sam glanced over at his brother, his hazel eyes filled with such sadness it nearly took Dean's breath away. Dean suddenly realized that Sam truly believed everything he'd said. He believed that their father didn't love him. He believed that John considered him a disappointment and a waste of space. Dean had no words for his little brother. He knew nothing he said would change Sam's mind. John would have to do that himself. Dean smiled softly and pulled Sam closer to his side. He began to move Sam forward, but Sam pulled back, his head turning to look over his shoulder.

"My weapons," Sam said, his eyes moving to the wolf, who by this time had reverted to its human form, causing the young hunter to swallow the bile that suddenly rose in his throat.

"Don't look, Sam. I'll get your knife for you," Dean said softly.

Dean moved Sam over to a downed tree and set him down on it, making sure the boy was steady before he moved over to the dark haired man who lay still on the ground, Sam's silver knife buried up to the hilt in the man's chest. He pulled the knife free, then began to peruse the ground for Sam's gun. He found it a few feet away and hurried over to pick it up. He wiped Sam's knife on his jeans, getting as much of the blood cleaned away before he got back to his brother. He stuffed the gun in his waistband as he stepped up to Sam then reached out to help Sam to his feet once again. Once Sam was standing, he replaced the knife in the sheath that hung from Sam's belt, wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and tugged him forward. The brothers staggered slowly back toward the parking area, Dean glancing over at Sam periodically, worried at the now completely silent teen. So much damage had been done to the kid that Dean was afraid they would never be able to completely fix him, but the young man was determined to do everything he could to get his baby brother back, no matter what it took.

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**So it seems Sam is opening up to his brother somewhat now, the stubborn little shit! Wonder how it'll go with his father? Thanks for reading guys and even though I'm having troubles with replying, I hope you'll still leave me your comments. Love to you all!**

**Cindy**


	13. Chapter 13

**Here is the next chapter for you all. I am now caught up to my completed chapters so you may be waiting a little while longer between posts. I am nearly finished with ch. 14 so you may be getting that tonight, but after that it'll be probably every three days or so. I also will be posting a short one-shot today that is part of the Three Brothers series. It's wee!chester and just a little story that I wrote while having nothing to do at work last week. I hope you'll check it out. It's titled 'Of Thumbs and Becurities'. Just thought you might want a little dose of Danny, Dean and a very cute, wee Sammy. Anyway, onto this story.**

**Cindy**

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John staggered to his feet, his dark eyes never leaving the darkness beyond the trees where Dean had disappeared minutes before. The sound of the gunshot had struck the man with such deep seeded terror that he had thought that he would never be able to breathe again. His baby was out there somewhere, probably hurt, possibly dead and he hadn't told Sam how sorry he was for how he had treated him. What would he do if he never got that chance? How could he live with himself? How could he ever look Dean in the eye again? Dean had told him over and over that something wasn't right and God, but John knew that was true. He just ignored it, telling himself that the end justified the means. He had the hunter he had always wanted Sam to be, a perfect little duplicate of his brother, only he had lost the ray of light that his Sam had been. He never would have thought that he would miss that Sam so much. Now, he wasn't sure he would ever see that Sam again. Sammy. His Sammy. Dean's Sammy.

"Be careful what you wish for, you stupid, selfish son of a bitch," John muttered to himself as he squinted his eyes into the darkness.

He waited for a few minutes, not trusting his legs to carry him far. Eventually though, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to get to his sons. He needed to see that he hadn't lost his youngest. John stumbled down the path, thankful that the full moon cast enough light so he wouldn't need to use his flashlight to illuminate his way. The going was slow, but John couldn't just sit around and wait to see that his boys were safe. He continued on, adrenaline strengthening his legs, keeping him moving down the path.

John had been walking for nearly twenty minutes when his legs finally gave out on him. His head felt like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer, the pain causing his vision to blur as he squinted into the darkness. He found a short tree stump and dropped down onto it, the man burying his face in his hands as the throb increased behind his eyes. He felt like a failure, unable to help his sons when they needed him most. Sam had been floundering for weeks now and John had done nothing to help him, choosing instead to ignore all of the warning signs that the boy was sinking deeper and deeper into depression, his emotions buried deep within himself, only coming through in infrequent outbursts of anger. Well, enough was enough.

John sat for a few moments longer then began to push to his feet when his attention was drawn away down the path. His hand moved to the knife that was sheathed at his side, the man ready to take on whatever was coming his way. He nearly collapsed with relief when his sons staggered into view, the oldest practically dragging the youngest as Sam appeared to be barely conscious. John rushed forward, his own hurts forgotten as he got a look at his baby. Sam was beyond pale, his eyes encircled by dark smudges, sweat soaking his face and hair. Blood stained his right leg, the jeans shredded over his right thigh. John looked at Dean, the older brother shaking his head tiredly as he glanced over at his sagging burden. John took Sam's head in his hands and lifted his face up so he could see into his eyes. There was barely any iris to see, the pupils taking over all but just a thin ring of Sam's hazel eyes.

"We need to hurry…the wolf could come back at any moment," John said in a rush as he moved opposite Dean and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist.

"No…it's dead," Dean said as he tugged Sam forward again.

"You killed it? Good job, Dean," John said with a small smile.

"Not me, Dad," Dean replied, his eyes moving to his brother before he turned his attention on his dad.

"Sam killed it?"

Sam lifted his head and glanced at John, his eyes glazed over with fever. "Piece of cake, even for m-me…sir," he stammered weakly before he turned his eyes away again.

John shook his head before turning his attention to the path ahead. They needed to get Sam back to the car and then back to the motel. He was obviously in shock and it appeared that infection had already set into his leg wound. The rest of the trip was done in silence, the going slow due to the physical state of two of the three hunters. Finally, they reached the Impala and this time it was Sam who was eased into the backseat. The boy groaned as he was laid back on the seat, then he cried out when John suddenly ripped his jeans open and began to poke and prod at the wound left by the werewolf's claws.

"Sorry, Sam," John whispered, his concerned eyes moving up to looked at Sam's pain lined face.

"'s 'kay, sir. Just a s-scratch."

John chuckled as he turned his attention back to Sam's leg. He could sense Dean looking over his shoulder so he turned to look at his oldest son. "He's going to be okay, Dean," he said, the man seeing the concern in the younger hunter's eyes.

Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving his little brother. He finally pulled his gaze away from Sam and let it rest on his father. "I have to go back and take care of the dead guy," he said as he made his way to the trunk of the car.

John stood and grabbed Dean's arm as the young man moved past him, the duffel containing the salt, lighter fluid and matches slung over one shoulder, a shovel held tight in the opposite hand. "Dad, I have to salt and burn the fucker then bury him. Just…take care of Sammy, okay? He needs you," Dean said before he pulled away and moved back toward the path, the hunter disappearing without a single look back.

John turned back to Sam, his heart clenching as he watched Sam's head roll on the seat, the boy in obvious pain. John moved back and kneeled down on the frame of the car door before reaching for the first aid kit. He glanced back up at Sam and smiled sadly.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm gonna take care of this leg. It's gonna hurt. You okay?" he asked, his gaze intent as he waited for his son to answer.

Sam looked down at his father and nodded lightly. "'m fine…just…do it," he murmured before his eyes moved to stare at the ceiling of the car.

"Okay…uh…I'm gonna do the alcohol first so…"

Sam nodded then shut his eyes, waiting for the sting of the alcohol. He bit back a cry when the pain came, his fingers digging into the leather seat as John wiped the wound clean. He flinched when he felt a hand move under his neck, his eyes flying open at the sudden touch.

"It's okay. I just want to give you some pain pills," John said softly.

Sam gazed up at his father then nodded. He hissed as John helped his sit up, his hand moving to grasp his side. John noticed this and glanced at his son questioningly. He reached down and pulled Sam's hand away then lifted the shirt, swearing under his breath at the deep bruise that had formed over the pink scars from the Wendigo attack. He tenderly fingered the bruise, his eyes darting up when Sam let out a soft cry.

"Sorry. What happened, Sam?" John asked as he let the shirt fall back into place.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again to glance at his father before dropping them to his lap. "Uh…werewolf fell on me after I stabbed it. Hilt got my side," he answered, his breathy voice worrying John.

"Knife? I heard a gunshot," John said as he shook two pills from the bottle he had opened.

John handed Sam the pills then reached into the front seat for the half empty bottle of water he had left there earlier. Sam washed the pills down then looked up at John. "Didn't kill it with the gun. It came after me…uh, knocked the gun away. Had to finish it before it finished me," Sam replied, his voice low and monotoned.

John lowered his head and sucked in a calming breath. Sam had come so close to being ripped apart. The werewolf had been close enough to have a knife plunged into its heart. John felt terror and pride all at the same time. He thought about all of the things that he needed to say to his son, but the words that came out of his mouth were not the words that had run through his head.

"Sam, how could you have been so stupid? You're just a kid…you're not go…you aren't ready to take on a werewolf by yourself!" the man snapped, immediately regretting the unplanned words when he saw the hurt look in his son's eyes.

"You were going to say I'm not good enough, weren't you?" Sam asked as he fell back onto the seat and turned his head away from his father.

John shook his head, knowing he should just stop talking, but the fear of almost losing Sam again kept him from being able to control himself. "Sam…you…"

"I know what you think of me, sir. I thought though that if I…I…You know what? Never mind," Sam started, the boy draping an arm over his face, cutting himself off from the man who leaned over him.

"Sam…I didn't mean that. I just…"

"You did mean it. I'm forever the screw up…I get it. Just…bandage my leg…or not. Doesn't really matter. I'll be…outa your hair…soon," Sam said, his voice taking on a slur as the pain pills began to work.

"Sam…what does that mean?" John queried, frowning when he received no answer.

John reached out and pulled Sam's arm away from his face, shaking his head sadly when he saw that the boy was out for the count. "Just can't think before you speak, can you?" he muttered to himself as he went back to work on Sam's leg.

John proceeded to tightly bandage the wound, the man not wanting to do the sutures until they were back at the motel where he could more easily see what he was doing. Once he had that taken care of, he moved to the trunk and retrieved an army blanket. He draped the blanket over Sam then eased the boy over the seat until his legs weren't dangling out the door anymore. He turned and sat on the doorframe then dropped his head into his hands, Sam's last words before falling unconscious playing over and over in his mind. What had he meant when he'd said he would be out of his hair soon? With the current state of Sam's mind, it could mean anything and the thought that Sam was maybe thinking of hurting himself filled John with a terror he'd never known before. John turned to look over his shoulder at his youngest son, the steady throb behind his eyes suddenly making itself known again.

"I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, Sam, but I'm going to fix what I've broken. I promise you that, kiddo. I promise you that," he whispered before turning back around, his gaze moving over the trees as the moonlight played over their branches.

John settled in, turning often to check on his youngest son as he waited for his oldest to return. He had broken his baby boy, thus breaking his family and he was determined to fix that before any more damage could be done. He just hoped that it wasn't too little, too late.

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**So, that's it for now. I'm almost done with the next chapter and am hoping to post it on both sites either tonight or tomorrow. As always, I'd love to hear what you think.**

**Cindy**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey! Two chapters in one day! But....now you'll have to wait a bit longer between chapters. Anyway, hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

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John was beginning to get worried. It'd been nearly forty five minutes and Dean had yet to return to the Impala. If he didn't have an unconscious teenager lying in the backseat, he'd be hightailing it into the forest in search of his eldest son. He could not leave Sam though. If the boy awoke and found himself alone, John was afraid of what he might do, considering his final words before passing out. John had run the words through his mind over and over and could only come up with two possible meanings. Either Sam was planning on leaving them or worse, he was planning on killing himself. The more John thought about it, the more Sam's actions seemed to point to the latter. First with the Wendigo and now with the werewolf? It almost appeared as though the boy was trying to get himself killed. Or, could he possibly be so hungry for approval and acceptance that he'd be willing to put his life in danger just to get one word of praise?

John was torn and he had no clue how to answer these troubling questions. If he gave Sam the praise that the boy may be seeking, he risked the chance that Sam would continue putting himself at risk, but if he didn't then he could lose his son in a completely different way. John knew that he had created this mess by not acknowledging the contributions that Sam made to the family business and by not making his youngest feel that he was important and needed, but most of all that he failed to show his baby that he was loved beyond anything or anyone, except Dean. John loved both boys equally, but in hindsight, he could see that he had been more willing to show that to Dean, but not to Sam. Dean had been easy. He loved what they did, craved the hunt where Sam tolerated it only because he had no other choice. Sam seemed happiest when immersed in the research part of the hunt, or in his schoolwork. What John failed to see all of that time was that the research was of equal importance to the actual hunt. Without the proper research, people died.

John couldn't believe what a fool he'd been. Sam had undoubtedly saved their asses more than a few times by his meticulous attention to details, but John had not one time praised him for his work. He'd criticized him numerous times though when on the same hunts the boy had slipped or made a noise that John felt he shouldn't have made. He always seemed to point out the negatives while never once acknowledging the positives. No wonder the boy felt he wasn't wanted or cared about. When you heard day in and day out that you didn't quite measure up, what other conclusion could you come to? John shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned his attention once more to the path that Dean had taken, his worry growing the longer his son was absent. A soft moan from behind him drew his attention in that direction and John turned to see Sam slowly coming to. He halfway stood and turned then eased in between the seats so he could get a closer look at his youngest son.

"Unnnn…ow," Sam hissed as he turned slightly, the action obviously aggravating the wounds in his leg and side.

"Easy, Sam. Don't move, okay?" John said softly, his hand coming to rest on Sam's forehead, the man frowning at the unnatural heat that radiated from the boy.

Sam blinked his bleary eyes open and stared up at his father's face. "D'd?" he queried, his voice indicating his confused state.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm here…just keep still," John answered, a warm smile curling his dry lips.

"Where's Dean?" the boy whispered, his eyes filled with worry.

"He went to burn the body. He should be back soon," John said, even though his own worry was growing by the minute.

The sudden sound of soft footsteps had the man turning to look over his shoulder, his body sagging with relief when his eldest son emerged from the trees, the young man's eyes immediately moving to the Impala as soon as he stepped into the parking area. John smiled as Dean rushed to the car and leaned into the open door, his attention focused completely on his little brother.

"Get everything taken care of?" John asked as he watched his eldest smile down at Sam.

"Yeah…the bastards worm food," Dean replied absently, his eyes never leaving the hazel ones that stared back up at him. "How ya doing, Sam?"

"Uh…I'm okay," Sam replied, his voice betraying what his words were saying.

"Sam…"

"It hurts, but not too much. Dad got some pain pills in me."

"Okay, well…let's get you back to the motel then," Dean said as he glanced over at his father.

John nodded and backed out of the backseat then moved around the car and climbed behind the wheel. Dean smiled warmly at his brother then stepped back and shut the back door. He eased into the front passenger seat then turned in the seat so he could watch Sam while John drove. It didn't take long before they were pulling to a stop in front of their motel room and John and Dean were climbing from the car. John went to open the room door while Dean helped Sam out of the back seat. John joined his sons and between the two older Winchesters, Sam was quickly deposited on the bed nearest the bathroom. His shoes and socks were removed and thrown against the wall then his shredded jeans were gingerly cut away and tossed into the trash bag near the door. He was further stripped until he was dressed in only his tee shirt and boxers then a blanket was draped over his shivering body, the blanket pulled back so that his right leg was visible.

John carefully removed the bandage he had placed on the wound in the woods then instructed Dean to fetch him warm water and washcloths. The wound was thoroughly cleaned before John began to stitch the deeper parts of the clawmarks. While John was busy with Sam's leg, Dean lifted the boy's tee shirt to get a better look at his side. The older brother glanced up, relieved to see that his brother had passed out once more thus making he and his father's ministrations easier to carry out. Dean returned his attention to Sam's side, his eyes narrowing at the growing bruise. There didn't appear to be any serious damage so Dean replaced Sam's tee shirt then began to inspect his body, wanting to make sure that Sam had been telling the truth when he had said he hadn't been bitten. When his inspection revealed no other wound, Dean moved up the bed and rested his weary body against the headboard, his fingers brushing idly through the boy's messy hair. John finally finished stitching Sam up then he bandaged the wound again before moving to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Dean stood and straightened the blanket over his brother before he went to the kitchenette to put on a pot of coffee. He didn't plan on sleeping the rest of the night and he would need the kick of the caffeine to accomplish that. John exited the bathroom and took a moment to stop next to Sam's bed, the man watching his boy sleep for a few moments before he joined Dean. Once both men had their cups filled, they sat at the small table and simply watched Sam for several minutes before John finally broke the silence.

"Uh…I think we have a problem, Dean," he said in a hushed tone so as not to disturb his sleeping son.

"Yeah? What's that?" Dean replied, his green eyes moving to rest on John's face.

"Sammy…um…he's pretty messed up," John answered.

Dean just stared at his father as if the man had grown two heads. He slowly shook his head as he licked his lips. "Uh…haven't I been saying that for the past six weeks or so?" he asked incredulously.

"I know…you have, but I think it's worse than we thought," John said, the man standing to turn all of the lights in the room off except the one over the table where he and Dean sat.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he eyed his brother with a renewed sense of worry.

"Uh…he said something in the car, before you came back and…I…I'm concerned."

"What did he say?"

"He said…um…he…"

"Dad? What did he say?"

John looked up at Dean and swallowed the lump in his throat. He hated to put more on the young man's shoulders, but if he didn't say anything and Sam did do something stupid and Dean found out that John knew that it was a possibility, he'd lose the respect of his eldest son forever. "He said that he'd be out of our hair soon," the man whispered, his eyes dropping to his coffee cup, index finger circling the rim nervously.

"What!? What does that mean?" Dean cried as he jerked his eyes to his sleeping brother.

"I don't know. Maybe it means he plans on taking off, or…or it could be worse than that."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean turned his attention back to John, his eyes narrowing as he took in John's defeated demeanor. "You said something didn't you?"

John looked up, his dark eyes conveying the guilt he felt. "I messed up…again. I told him he was stupid for taking off like that. I said that he wasn't…that he wasn't experienced enough to take on a werewolf by himself."

"And yet he killed it…with a knife. Dad…do you think that just one frickin' time you could think before you open your mouth!? You couldn't have said 'nice job, Sammy' or 'you did good, Sammy'? No, you have to tell him that he's stupid and incapable of something he had just proven he was more than capable of! What is it with you?" Dean cried angrily.

"I know Dean. I was just so worried. Your brother scared me so badly and I just lashed out. I knew what I wanted to say, but that's not what came out," John said, his eyes dropping in shame.

Dean stood and turned his back to his father as he scrubbed a hand over his stubbled face. He turned and glared down at John until the man raised his dark eyes up to the younger man's face. "When he wakes up, you are telling him everything that you should have told him all along. He needs to know that you care about him, Dad…"

"He knows I love him…he's just upset and…"

"No, Dad, he doesn't know that. He truly thinks that you don't love him. We had a little talk in the woods while he was resting. This isn't dramatics. He thinks you don't give a damn about him. He thinks that he's a waste of space in your eyes. He needs to know the truth. You have to make him believe that what he thinks isn't true. It isn't…right?"

John jerked his eyes up, shocked at Dean's question. "What!? Of course it isn't true! I love Sam so much. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, Dean. I know I've screwed up with him, but I've always loved him more than anything. I love the both of you more than anything. You have to believe me."

"I'm not the one you need to convince, Dad. I have some fixing to do myself, but I think you need to talk to him as soon as he's coherent."

"I will, Dean. Just as soon as he can have a meaningful conversation, I'll fix this. I promise," John said as he stood and moved to Sam's bedside and plopped down in the chair he'd sat in to sew Sam's leg up.

Dean walked to the other bed and sat down. He kicked off his boots and inched up to lean against the headboard. He picked up the television remote and turned on the set, lowering the volume so as not to disturb his injured brother. He flipped idly through the channels as his mind mulled over the nights events. He prayed that John held true to his word and talked to Sam because he was sure if something wasn't done soon, they'd lose his brother forever.

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Sam groaned as he slowly came awake. He blinked bleary eyes open and rolled his head to his right. His father sat hunched over on one of the room chairs, his chin resting on his chest. Sam heard soft snores from his left and turned his head to the other bed in the room. Dean was leant up against the headboard, his body listing to the side, his mouth half open in sleep. Sam planted his hands on the mattress and pushed himself up, the boy hissing as pain shot through his side and leg. The pain wasn't as bad as he remembered from earlier and he was at least happy for that. Sam gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed, noticing at that moment that he was clothed only in his tee shirt and boxers. He rolled his eyes, mortified that he once again had to be disrobed by his family. Sam turned and looked over his shoulder at his sleeping father. The father who would never accept him, who would never love him and would always see him as the lesser son.

Sam dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears threatened to fall and Sam lifted his fisted hands to his face and pressed them into his eyes. He wouldn't cry. Crying was for weaklings. All he'd ever wanted was to be seen as an equal to his father and brother. To be accepted as an important member of the family. He felt anything but. He felt like he was a burden, like a he was a second class citizen. He'd never be the son his father wanted, no matter what he did. He'd proven that. He'd changed everything about himself. He'd become something he wasn't and still he'd been shot down. He thought if he discarded everything that made him what his father despised, he would be accepted, but he'd been wrong.

Sam knew what he needed to do, but he was afraid it would hurt his brother. He lifted his head and turned his attention to Dean. Despite the words that Dean had said to him in the woods that night, Sam knew that his brother loved him. His actions over the past weeks proved that. Sam felt bad that he'd been so hard on Dean, and even worse for what he was planning on doing, but he didn't know what else to do. His family would be better off if he wasn't there. They'd be able to hunt without having to worry about saving his worthless ass. Sam gazed sadly at his brother. He really didn't want to leave him, but he really didn't have a choice. He was holding his brother back, distracting him from what was important and sooner or later it would get him hurt or killed. Sam couldn't let that happen. He loved Dean more than anyone and it was high time he finally did the right thing and set his brother free.

Sam pushed to his feet and limped around the bed as silently as he could. He swept his gaze over the room, spying his duffel against the wall next to the door. He went to it, leaned over and picked it up then headed toward the bathroom. On his way he picked his gun up from the side table next to his bed then stepped through the door to the bathroom, the boy casting one last look at his brother before disappearing into the small room and closing the door behind him.

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**Okay, I'm going into hiding now! I'll be working on the next chapter so I don't keep you in suspense for too long. Sorry for the very evil...very mean cliffy. Please...let me live! LOL**

**Cindy**


	15. Chapter 15

**Okay, I guess I've let you suffer for long enough. Here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

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Dean awoke and immediately cursed himself for falling asleep in the first place. He had intended to watch over his brother, but instead had allowed himself to surrender to the pull of sleep. He slowly sat up and rolled his head around on his shoulders, hoping to loosen the kink that had taken hold in the awkward position he had awoken in. He glanced over at Sam's bed and instantly went into panic mode. Sam's bed was empty and a quick scan of the room revealed nothing but their stuff strewn about and their father sound asleep on the chair next to Sam's bed. Dean's eyes fell upon the closed bathroom door and he relaxed, sighing at his propensity to jump to dark conclusions when it came to Sam. He stood from his bed and shuffled to the kitchenette to start a pot of coffee, his eyes moving over his shoulder to once again peer at the bathroom door. He cocked his head, suddenly troubled by the lack of sound coming from behind the closed door. He waited a few more minutes, but finally his fear started to overtake him again and he moved to the door, his hip bumping in to the back of John's chair on his way waking the older hunter up.

John stared groggily after Dean as the young man went to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door. He took in a deep breath through his nose, breathing in the welcome aroma of the brewing coffee as he watched Dean lean his ear against the door.

"Sammy? What's up little brother?" Dean called through the door as he knocked once more.

Dean turned to look at John when he received no answer, his eyes reflecting the worry in his heart. His hand moved to the door knob, which thankfully turned in his hand and he pushed the door open and stuck his head into the room.

"Sam…wh…Sammy! Put it down…put the gun down!" Dean screamed as he moved into the room.

John jumped to his feet at Dean's frantic words and rushed to the bathroom, the eldest Winchester bumping into Dean's back as the younger man backed up a step. Dean had his hands held out in front of him and his body was trembling as he stared into the room and John craned his neck to see over his son's shoulder. What he saw nearly stopped his heart in his chest. Sam was sitting on the toilet lid, fully dressed, his duffel bag at his feet, but that wasn't what made John's breath catch in his throat. It was the gun his baby held flush up against his chest, the muzzle pointing up toward his chin. Sam stared straight ahead, the boy not even acknowledging his family's presence. He rocked slightly back and forth, the hand that held the gun trembling slightly.

"Sammy…look at me…Sam…" Dean pleaded, the young man unable to tear his eyes away from the gun pointed up at his brother's chin.

Sam slowly turned his head and tugged the gun more into his chest as his wet eyes stared over at his family. "Dean? D-Dad?" he queried softly, his eyes dropping when he realized where their gaze was resting.

Sam lowered the gun and rested his hand in his lap, the muzzle of the gun now pointed at the wall opposite the toilet instead of at the boy causing the two older Winchesters to let out the breaths they'd been holding in. Sam looked back up at his family and sadly smiled. "I tried…c-couldn't do it," he whispered. "Can't do anything right…apparently."

"Sammy, what's going on?" John queried, the man trying as hard as he could to keep the tremble out of his voice.

Sam gazed incredulously up at his father and shook his head. "What's going on? Are you serious, Dad? How could you ask me that?"

"Sam, look, I know I said some hurtful things, but…" John started.

"Hurtful things…yeah…that's what this is all about," Sam said sadly. "My feelings got hurt so I decided to blow my head off."

"Sam…"

"No, Dad! You just don't get it do you? I tried to do what you wanted, but it didn't matter! Nothing I do matters! You'll never…god…just…never mind," Sam cried as he lifted the gun again.

"Sam! No!" Dean yelled, his legs nearly giving out on him as he watched his little brother fall apart before his eyes.

Sam suddenly slammed the side of the gun against his forehead, one, two, three times until a small cut appeared and a thin trickle of blood ran down into his left eye. He left the gun against his forehead as he began to sob, his body once again rocking back and forth. "I changed everything…destroyed everything that made me…me and it still wasn't good enough. Nothing is ever good enough," he cried as he pulled the gun away and smacked himself again.

Dean and John both moved into the room, the younger of the men reaching out to his brother, his green eyes wide with fear. "Sammy…stop it. You're hurting yourself. Please…just stop," he said softly, stopping his forward movement as Sam leaned away from him.

Sam turned his eyes on his father and brother and both men were taken aback by the sheer misery they saw in his hazel depths. "I've been so alone for so long and I…I just thought if I became who you wanted me to be you'd…you'd let me in. Guess I was wrong," he whispered forlornly.

"Sam, you're not alone. You're with us twenty four/seven," John said as he moved closer to his son.

"No, you and Dean are together. I'm just the burden who sits in the back seat. I'm not really a part of this family. I changed everything about myself…turned myself into the son you've always wanted me to be and I'm still not good enough for you. Why don't you just admit it, Dad! You don't give a shit about me! You never have! I've always been the disappointment. I…I don't know what else to do to make you love me. I'm sorry…I tried."

"Sam…god, son…do you really think that? Do you really think that I don't love you? Sammy…"

"You don't, Dad. You may think you do, but…if you did, I would have been good enough…"

"Sammy, you have always been good enough. God, I'm sorry I've never told you how very proud I am of you. How much I love you. But its true, son…I love you so much and I am proud of you," John said, the man crouching down beside his son, his hand reaching out to gently take the gun from Sam's trembling hand.

Sam watched as John pulled the gun away then glanced up into this father's face. He smiled sadly as he raised his eyes up to his brother then returned them to John. "You don't know how long I've wanted to hear you say that, Dad, but…but now it just doesn't matter. I don't believe you."

"Sammy…its true. I know I've messed up…god, I can't believe how badly I've messed up, but you have to believe me. I love you more than anything," John cried, his hand resting on Sam's jean clad knee.

"I understand you know. I mean, I hate myself for Mom dying…why wouldn't you hate me too? I've tried to make up for it, I really have, but its not enough. I can't even kill myself right," Sam muttered as he looked down at his legs. "Don't even know why I got dressed. Guess I didn't want to die in my underwear," he said absently.

Dean moved further into the room, the young man wiping tears from his cheeks as he sat on the edge of the bathtub and cupped the back of Sam's neck. Sam turned his head and gazed at his brother. Dean pulled Sam to him and wrapped his arms around the boy, the young man holding on for dear life. "Sammy…I'm so sorry I didn't see that you were hurting this badly. I-I knew something was wrong, but I…I just didn't see how bad. Its gonna be okay…I promise," he whispered as he pulled Sam tighter to him.

For a moment Sam just allowed his brother to hold him, the boy relishing the connection, having missed the closeness he'd shared with his sibling. He knew he was partly to blame for their problems. He hadn't allowed Dean to ease his conscious when the older hunter had tried to apologize and eventually Dean had given up. It was Sam's fault, all of it. He had expected something that he knew in his heart he'd never get and then had been upset when he hadn't gotten the recognition his craved. He only had himself to blame. He finally pushed away from Dean and smiled sadly then turned to his father.

"Dad…I'm sorry. I know I'm in the way. I know that you will be able to do so much more without having to deal with me. I think…I need to leave…"

"Sam…no!" Dean cried, his green eyes shooting up to his father, pleading with the man to say the right thing for once.

"Dean…I have to…I don't belong here…"

"Sam, you do belong. Don't say that. Please don't think that I don't care about you, son. I do…so much," John said, his dark eyes moving from his eldest to his youngest son.

"You didn't even ask if I was hurt, Dad," Sam said softly.

"What? What are you talking about?" John queried as he stared with confusion at his son.

"After the Wendigo attacked Dean. You didn't even ask if I had been hurt. You slammed me up against the wall outside the hospital and you didn't even think that I could have been hurt too," Sam said, his hazel eyes filling once more.

"Sam…I…"

"I get it. Dean was hurt badly and you thought it was my doing. But…you've always asked if I was hurt before, no matter how pissed you were at me. That's when I knew. That's why I have to leave. I…"

"Sam, we can't do this without you. You're my baby…I can't let you leave," John said as he gently squeezed Sam's knee.

"I'm dying inside, Dad. I can't do it anymore. I can't just be the pain in the ass who rides in the backseat. I can't be the kid who can't do anything right…who's only good for research. I can't…I…I just can't," Sam whispered softly.

John dropped his eyes, the man so ashamed that he couldn't even look his boy in the eye. He didn't know how to fix this. Maybe the right thing to do was to allow Sam the time he thought he needed. John's heart pounded in his chest at the thought of Sam leaving he and Dean, but if Sam thought the time away would help, then he would accommodate him. He looked up into the expectant eyes of his youngest son and smiled softly.

"If you think taking a break from me will help you, then I'll allow it, but…"

"Dad! No way! He can't leave…he belongs here…with us!" Dean cried, his eyes moving from his father to his brother and back, the green orbs filled with panic.

"I can't stay, Dean. Please, just let me go. It won't be forever…I just…I need time," Sam pleaded as he turned his gaze upon his brother.

"Sammy, you just tried to kill yourself and now you want me to just let you leave? There's no way!" Dean yelled.

"Dean…" John started.

"No, Dad! How can you even be considering this? This is crazy. How can we fix things with the kid if he isn't even with us? No way…no frickin' way!"

"Dean, I need to go. Please, I need this. It will probably only be for a few weeks. I need the space to think," Sam said.

"Where would you go? Huh? It's dangerous out there…and, before you start thinking I don't think you're strong enough to take care of yourself, just stop. I know you're strong enough, I just…I need you with me, Sammy. I need you," Dean said, his green eyes pleading with his brother to hear him.

Sam dropped his eyes to his lap. He loved his brother so much, his father too, but he just couldn't be here right now. He couldn't face his family, not after what he'd tried to do. He looked back up to Dean, his eyes filled with sadness.

"Dean, it won't be for long and you don't need to worry. I won't try to…uh…I won't try it again. I promise. I need this."

Dean gazed at his brother then looked over at his silent father. "You really think this is a good idea? Really?" he asked, his stomach doing flip flops at the thought of Sam not being with them.

"I don't want him to go either, but if its what he says he needs. I want to do whatever Sam needs, Dean. Even if it means being separated for a while. I don't like it, but I'll do it, for Sam," John answered as he squeezed Sam's knee again.

Sam gazed over at his father, a look of surprise on his face. He was pretty sure John was just humoring him, but the man didn't appear deceitful. He looked like he truly was concerned. Sam shook his head lightly. It had to be an act. This whole thing had to be an act. Dean loved him, Sam knew that, but too much had happened for Sam to believe that his father would just all of the sudden love him too. Then, it dawned on the boy. John had wanted to ship him off after what happened in Gresham. That was why he was so open to giving Sam his space. He was getting rid of him and looking like the supportive father all at the same time. Sam smiled, finally understanding why his father was being so agreeable.

"Thanks, Dad. I'm sure I just need a few weeks. I appreciate you understanding," Sam said.

Dean looked at his brother, not liking the robot like tone to the kids voice. Sam was just saying what he thought John wanted to hear. Sam didn't believe that John was truly concerned about him. Dean knew his little brother backwards and forwards and this was Sam saying what he needed to say to get his way. John was playing right into his hands, the man wanting to do anything to make Sam see that he was wrong.

"Dad, we can help Sam better if he's with us. Please, don't let him go," Dean pleaded, knowing that it was John's call in the end.

"No. Sam needs this, we let him have it, but on one condition," John said as he looked at his eldest son. He moved his gaze back to Sam and continued. "You go to Bobby's…or Pastor Jims. We'll give you the space you need, but we need to know that you're safe. That's the deal."

Sam nodded as he looked at his father. "I'll go to Bobby's. He's got all of those books and well, I…"

"I know, Sam. You're comfortable there. I'll give Bobby a call then we'll get you to his house," John said.

"Uh…can I just ride a bus? Just so I can have some time to myself? I'll be fine, Dad," Sam said then turned his attention to Dean. "I'll be fine, Dean…really."

"Sammy, can we just think about this?" Dean asked.

"Dean, I tried to shoot myself then when I couldn't do it, I sat on this toilet for two hours…thinking. I need to do this. I've done all the thinking I need to do," Sam said.

Dean lowered his head and stared at his hands. He looked up again, his eyes filled with sadness. "Okay, Sammy. Okay," he said softly.

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Dean pulled up outside the motel in Jackson Hole and cut the engine of the Impala. He exited the car and headed toward his room. He and John had decided to stay on a few days longer after dropping Sam at the bus station the day before yesterday, both wanting to wait until they knew that Sam was safely at Bobby's before they moved on. Dean pushed through the door and promptly stopped as he watched his father replace the phone receiver back in the cradle, the man's face white as a ghost.

"Dad? What's wrong?" Dean asked, his heart leaping into his throat at the look on John's face.

John looked up, his dark eyes glistening as he stared at his eldest son. "Dean…uh…it's Sammy," John said as he dropped down on the edge of his bed.

"What? What about Sammy? Dad?" Dean cried, his legs nearly giving out on him as he watched his father drop his head into his hands.

John looked up and Dean could see the panic in his eyes. "That was Bobby. Sam…he…he wasn't on the bus. When Bobby went to pick him up, he never got off the bus. He's gone, Dean. He's gone and I have no idea where he could be," John whispered.

Dean collapsed into the chair that sat at the table near the door. He lifted a trembling hand to his face and stared at his father. "No…Sammy...no," he cried softly as the tears began to fall.

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**Oops, sorry. Another cliffy. Well, what can I say? Please let me know what you think. I'm going to do my replies to the comments next. Take care all.**

**Cindy**


	16. Chapter 16

**So sorry for the delay guys. We're all sick up here and just starting to feel better. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Cindy.**

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Dean paced the motel room, his hands locked around the back of his head. His eyes kept going to Sam's gun that lay on the table near the door. They had decided that Sam would leave his gun with them because of what had happened and now the boy was out there somewhere without his weapon, probably at the mercy of some sicko. "Son of a bitch…son of a bitch…SON OF A BITCH!!" he screamed as his green eyes moved to his father who sat hunched over a map on his bed.

John jerked his head up, his dark eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and endless searching. He'd spent hours on the phone, putting out feelers to all of the hunters he knew to keep an eye out for his youngest son. He'd even sent Dean out to get a cellphone, something he swore he'd never own, so that he could be contacted when away from the room. "Dean…calm down," he said softly, but sternly as he watched his eldest continue to pace before him.

"I knew we shouldn't have let him go! I knew it, but you wouldn't listen! He was in no condition to be on his own, not even for a few minutes and we put him on a bus for a two day trip! Anybody could have him! Do you even realize what kind of psycho perverts are out there, Dad!? Do you even care that he's missing?" Dean shouted, the young man in near hysterics by this point.

"Damn it, Dean! Of course I care! What the hell kind of question is that? I've been up for over twenty four hours trying to find any kind of lead," John yelled back, his exhaustion driving his rising anger.

"What do you want, Dad, a medal or a chest to pin it on? You sent him out there! You let him go! He's totally fucked in the head and you just let him waltz right…wait…Son of a bitch!" Dean hissed as he eyed his father with distrust.

John narrowed his dark eyes and stared with confusion at his son. "What? Dean?"

"You wanted him to go, didn't you?" Dean whispered, the young man deflating with the sudden realization.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" John asked incredulously.

"You were going to ship him off. This is exactly what you wanted. That's why you gave in. Oh my God…Sammy could be hurt or d-dead because you couldn't deal with him…"

"Dean! No, that's not true! I didn't want him to go. Are you out of your mind!?" John shot as he jumped to his feet, his face red with anger.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face as he turned his back on his father. He turned slowly back around and stared into his fathers face. "You better be telling the truth, Dad because if you aren't and something happens to my little brother, I'll never forgive you. And you know what? If I was thinking you wanted him to go, you can bet he was thinking the same thing," the young man said in a hushed tone.

John stared at his son and the horror of that statement hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. He collapsed down onto the chair he'd been seated in, the wind completely knocked out of him. That's why Sam had looked at him the way he did when he thanked him for letting him go. Sam thought that John really had wanted him to go, that he was getting what he'd wanted back in Gresham. "Oh shit…he probably does think I wanted him gone. God, Sammy…I'm so sorry," he murmured, his fear kicking up ten notches.

Dean moved to sit on the edge of the bed nearest the table and opened his mouth to speak when suddenly, John's new cell phone began to ring. Dean eyed John curiously as the older hunter picked up the phone and flipped it open.

"John Winchester," John said into the phone, his brow creasing as the other person spoke.

_"Johnny, it's Caleb…"_

"Caleb? How'd you get this number? I just got this phone today."

Dean watched as John's eyes lit up, the older hunter sitting up straight as he listened into the earpiece. He stood and moved in front of his father, the man waving him off as Dean began to query about the call.

_"I called Bobby to find out how to get ahold of you. Listen, I…"_

"Caleb, if you're needing help with a hunt, we can't do it right now," John said.

_"No, not a hunt. Look, I don't want you to go all ballistic on me when I tell you what I need to tell you, okay?"_

"Why would I go ballistic? What's going on?"

_"Johnny, the kid is with me…"_

"What!? Sammy's there? Where are you? We can be on the road in five…"

_"No, Johnny, just listen okay? Half pint doesn't want to see you just yet. He'll be pissed if he finds out that I called you. Just know that he's safe and that I'll keep a good eye on him until he's ready to come back to you."_

"Caleb, that's my boy you got there and we've been going crazy trying to find him," John said, the man holding up his hand to quiet his nearly frantic older son. "You have to tell me where he is so we can come get him."

_"Look, I don't know everything that went down between you and your boy. All I do know is the kid that showed up here is not the same kid that I saw at Thanksgiving. He's withdrawn and quiet and so fucking sad. What the hell is going on with him, Johnny?"_

"It's a long story, Caleb. Just…please, tell me where you are," John pleaded, his eyes locking with the green eyes of his eldest son.

_"I can't. I promised Half pint and I'm not gonna break that promise. He'll let me know when he's ready. I just wanted you to know that he's okay and that he's safe."_

"Caleb…please…"

_"Can't. Sorry, Johnny."_

Dean, who had been watching John's face through the whole conversation, the young man nearly coming undone at not knowing what was going on, grabbed the phone out of his father's hand and hissed into the phone. "Caleb, if my brother is with you, you need to tell us where you are! He belongs with us. He…"

_"Why was he on his way to Bobby's then, Dean? Why is he so…messed up? What the hell happened to him?"_

Dean flinched at the anger he heard in his friend's voice. Sam obviously hadn't told him what had gone down and Dean wasn't about to tell him either. "It's a long story, Caleb…"

_"Yeah, your daddy already said that. Look, I gotta go. Like I told John, Sam is safe. I'll keep in touch, but I won't tell you where we are. That kid needs someone he can trust and from what I've gathered, he doesn't feel that right now. Hell, I shouldn't even be calling, but all I could see was how you all must be tearing your hair out."_

"Caleb, please…"

_"Look…I'll talk to him, okay? I can't betray him by telling you where we are, but I can try and talk some sense into him. That's the best I can do for now, Ace."_

Dean dropped his head and nodded, even though Caleb couldn't see him then he lifted his eyes and gazed at John. "Okay, I understand, but Caleb?"

_"Yeah, Ace?"_

"You keep my brother safe. He's everything to me, you know? I can't lose him," Dean said, his eyes once more falling on his father. "We can't lose him."

_"You know I will. I love that kid like a brother. I ain't letting anything happen to him."_

Dean swallowed as he collapsed into a chair. "Thanks, man. Just…as soon as you can, let us know where you are."

_"I will. I gotta go, Ace. The kids in the room and I don't want him getting suspicious."_

"Yeah, okay. Uh…keep in touch as best as you can," Dean said.

_"I'll call whenever I can, Dean."_

"Okay, bye Caleb."

_"Bye."_

Dean flipped the phone shut and tossed it to John. The two men sat in silence as they pondered the situation. On one hand, Sam was not with them, not under their care. On the other hand, he was with someone they knew would protect him with their life, just as they would. They couldn't change the situation so they would just have to live with it until Sam was ready to come back. They didn't have to like it though.

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Caleb flipped his phone shut and stepped away from his SUV. He eyed his door with trepidation before grabbing the knob and pushing into the room. His gaze immediately moved to the bed where his guest sat, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes on the TV, but not really seeing what was playing. Sam looked up as Caleb moved into the room, the boys eyes narrowing on his friend. Caleb smiled nervously before dropping into a chair and leaning over to remove his boots.

"So, what did Dean and Dad have to say?" Sam said, his voice hushed as he stared at the older hunter.

Caleb looked up and put on his most innocent face. "What? I just went to the office to get some information, Sam," he said in reply.

"I'm not stupid, Caleb. You called them, didn't you?" Sam said as he sat up and crossed his arms across his stomach.

Caleb chewed on his lower lip then leaned back into the chair. "Okay…I called them, but I didn't tell them where we were."

"You promised. I asked you not to do anything…"

"Do you really want them to worry over you like that, Half pint? If you do well…that's just mean," Caleb said softly.

Sam eyed his friend for a moment then shook his head. He dropped his head to his lap, his chocolate hair hiding his face. He finally looked back up and Caleb could see the wetness in his eyes. "Dean may be worried, but I'm sure Dad is happy to be rid of me."

"Look, kiddo. I don't know what happened between you guys, but I do know one thing. Your daddy loves you more than life itself. He'd die for you in a minute. He was freaked out, Sam. Dean too. I'm sorry I went behind your back, but I thought they deserved to know where you were," Caleb said as he stood and moved to sit on the bed next to his young charge.

Sam turned to look at Caleb and smiled sadly. "It's okay, Caleb. You're right. But Dad? He's glad I'm gone. When I said I wanted to leave, he didn't really put up much of a fight. He got what he wanted."

Caleb furrowed his brow as he watched the young teen curiously. "What do you mean he got what he wanted? Sam, you can talk to me. Tell me what's going on so I can help you."

Sam lowered his eyes and soon he lifted a hand up to brush it over his suddenly wet cheeks. "I'm not the son Dad wants or needs. I tried to be, but it wasn't enough. He didn't even bother to check to see if I'd been hurt, Caleb. I mean, I covered it up so he couldn't see, but still, he's always cared enough to ask before, but not this time."

Caleb shook his head in confusion. "Sammy, what are you talking about? You were hurt? When did this happen?"

"Almost two months ago. We were on a hunt in Oregon for a Wendigo. Dad was really riding my ass, made me come even though he knew you could help him out…"

"Wait, he said he didn't need help with that hunt. I offered…"

"He knew I had a test that week that I couldn't make up. He made me come because he was pissed at me for talking back and that was his way of punishing me. Anyway, Dean and I were waiting in one area and Dad had gone off on another path. I heard something and tried to get Dean's attention, but he was pissed at me too…didn't believe me when I told him about Dad. So, he was ignoring me and then all of the sudden, I was flying then it got Dean. I got a flare off and ran it off, but Dean was hurt bad…"

"And let me guess the rest. John thought it was you who dropped the ball?" Caleb asked, his anger already on the rise.

Sam nodded and wrapped his arms tighter around himself. "He shoved me away from Dean then picked him up and got him to the hospital. When we got word that Dean was going to be okay, Dad wouldn't let me go see him. He told me to go back to the motel. He told me that if any more people were killed it would be my fault…"

"And you were hurt too?" Caleb asked with a tight, angry voice.

"Yeah. Slashed me on my side. So, I walked back to the motel and…"

"You walked back? With a torn up side? Son of a bitch, Johnny!"

Sam glanced over at the older hunter and bit his lower lip. "I got myself cleaned up as best as I could then I went and got a car. Went out there to take care of the Wendigo before anybody else got hurt…"

"What!? You went after the bastard alone? Are you nuts!?"

Sam collapsed back into the pillows and sighed softly. "So, you don't think I'm good enough either? I'm too weak to hunt…"

"I didn't say that, Sammy. No hunter should go after a Wendigo by themselves. Those creatures are fierce and they can creep up on you without you even knowing. For you to have even heard the sucker is amazing," Caleb answered, the man turning so he could face the teen.

"Well, I almost proved Dad right. The Wendigo got me…strung me up in some mineshaft, chewed on me a bit, but then I got away. I killed it and made it out of that place. That's when Dad and Dean found me."

Caleb couldn't say anything for a moment. He just sat there and stared wide eyed at the boy, his mouth hanging open. Finally, he was able to speak. "You killed it? That's amazing, Sam. So, what happened then?"

"I passed out. They got me back to the motel and got me cleaned up and stitched. We went back to where we were living and I finished up school. Then, we went on this last hunt. I overheard Dad telling Dean that he wanted to ship me off to Pastor Jims for the summer. He said it was so I could heal up, but I know it was because he thinks I'm not good enough to be with them. He thinks that if I'm around, I'll get Dean killed."

"No, Sam. He doesn't think that…"

"He told me I would. He doesn't care about me, Caleb."

"He does, kiddo. Very much. So, what changed his mind about shipping you off?"

"Dean told him that I wasn't to blame for the Wendigo. I'm pretty sure he still would have sent me away if it weren't for Dean."

"So, why were you going to Bobby's? Why did you change busses and come here? Oh, and I just gotta say I'm impressed by your detective skills in finding me, kiddo."

Sam smiled shyly then continued. "I…I did something stupid, Caleb. Or…at least I tried. I couldn't do it though, so I asked to go to Bobby's for awhile. I just couldn't bear to be with them anymore. It sucks to know that you're always going to be second best and I just couldn't take it anymore. I've just been so lonely, always on the outside looking in. So, I talked them into letting me go, but I knew if I went to Bobby's, Dean would be talking Dad into coming to get me. I got off the bus at the first stop and called you, found out where you were then traded my ticket in for one here."

Caleb shook his head then glanced over at the kid next to him. Something that Sam said unnerved him immensely. That and the veiled panic in Dean's voice when he had spoken to him earlier. Caleb had thought that Dean wanted to tell him something else and the hunter figured it had to do with the stupid thing Sam had tried to do. He had an idea, but prayed that he was wrong. Finally, he worked up the nerve to ask the boy the question that he feared the answer to.

"So, Sam. What was the stupid thing that you tried to do?"

Sam turned his head away from his friend and fell silent. Caleb waited, giving the boy time to decide whether to talk or not. Finally, Sam turned to the older hunter, his eyes filled with shame and acute sadness. So much so that it took Caleb's breath away.

"I…I tried to…to shoot myself, but I couldn't do it. Too much of a coward I guess…"

"Sammy…god, kiddo. You're not a coward. You just care too much about your family to do that to them…"

"They'd be better off if I'd done it, Caleb…"

Caleb grabbed Sam roughly by the arms and swung him around so they were face to face. "Don't you ever say that! They'd be lost if you'd done it! We all would be. You don't get how much we all care about you!? God, Sam…for a genius, you can be so dense sometimes!"

Sam's eyes widened in shock, then anger as he jerked out of Caleb's grasp. He jumped up from the bed and back up until he hit the wall behind him. "You don't know what it's like! Everything I do is wrong! When Dad looks at me, I can see the disappointment in his eyes, Caleb! You've seen how he is! Do you have any idea how it feels to know that you'll never be good enough? That you'll never be seen as an equal? Have you ever worked so hard on something just to be told that your brother was able to do it when he was way younger? Dean will always be the one that Dad loves the most, no matter what I do. It didn't even matter that I changed everything about myself for him. I was ready to dump school, I burned all of my stuff…gave up everything and…"

"Wait…you burned your stuff? Why?"

"Because, it was everything that Dad saw as frivolous. Books…awards…you don't need that stuff for hunting, therefore it isn't important. Nothing that was important to me mattered to him. If it doesn't involve hunting, it was worthless. I'm worthless to him. I don't like hunting, so…"

"You aren't worthless to your father, kiddo. Yes, Johnny is a bit fanatical when it comes to hunting, but he loves you more than the hunt. You and Dean are the reason he does this," Caleb said, the older hunter rising from the bed and making his way around to where Sam stood.

"He does it because of Mom, and deep down, he knows she died because of me, Caleb. I know she did too. How could he love me when he knows I'm responsible for her dying?" Sam asked, tears spilling down his cheeks as he slid down the wall.

Caleb stopped a few feet from the teen and stared down at him, dumbfounded by this new revelation. Sam's body shook as he cried, his head buried in his arms as the rested on his pulled up knees. How could the kid think that? How could he possibly think that his father held him responsible for his mother's death? If Sam truly felt this way, then they had much bigger problems to deal with than hurt feelings. Sam's troubles ran much deeper than he'd thought and suddenly he wished he'd told the older Winchesters where Sam was because he wasn't sure if he could deal with the teenager on his own. Caleb didn't know how to fix the problems for the kid, but he did know that Sam needed comfort and he was more than able to provide that. He moved toward Sam and eased himself down onto the floor beside him. He pulled the sobbing teen into his arms and held him close, rocking him slightly.

"It'll be okay, kiddo. I promise, it'll all be okay," Caleb whispered into Sam's ear as he continued to hold him.

"No, Caleb. I don't think it's ever going to be okay again," Sam whispered back, his voice so sad it brought a tear to the hardened hunters eye.

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**So, that's it for now. At least Sam is safe. For now. Take care all!**

**Cindy**


	17. Chapter 17

**So, finally got this chapter done. Hope you like it.**

**Cindy**

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Caleb sat on the edge of the bed and watched his young charge sleep. The boy had cried himself to sleep as they'd sat on the floor, the emotions that Sam had been keeping inside for so long finally coming out and driving him to exhaustion. He hadn't even stirred when Caleb had lifted him from the floor and laid him on the bed, nor when the blankets had been pulled over and tucked around him. The hunter kept going over Sam's words in his head and the more he thought about it, the more angry he became. John had stepped over the line this time. To say the things he'd said to such a sensitive, sweet kid was intolerable. Caleb dropped his eyes and shook his head. He had no idea how they were going to help Sam, but he knew one thing he could do right now. He stood from the bed, grabbed his phone and silently made his way out of the room.

Caleb leaned up against the wall outside of his room and punched in John's cell number then waited for the call to be answered. The second the phone was picked up, he started in, showing his friend no mercy.

"You stupid son of a bitch! How could you do that to your own son!?" Caleb hissed into the phone as soon as he heard John's sleepy voice on the other end.

"_W-what? Caleb? Why are you calling so late? Oh god…is Sammy okay?"_

"No! Sammy isn't okay, you idiot! He's frickin' anything but okay! How could you blame him for Dean getting hurt without even knowing what went down? How could you then tell him that any other deaths would be on his head? He could have been killed! Oh, and don't get me started on wanting to send him away!"

"_Just wait. I know I screwed up, Caleb, but I've tried to make up for it…"_

"Yeah…bang up job there doofus! Sam nearly killed himself, John!"

_"He told you? Look, maybe you should hear both sides of the story before you go off on me, Caleb! I highly doubt that this is any of your business anyway!"_

"Oh, so Sam's lying? You didn't want to ship him off to Pastor Jim's for the summer? Plus, the second Sam decided to come to me, it became my business!"

_"Yeah…okay, I haven't been father of the year lately, but I've only done what I think is best for him."_

"So, making Sam miss his test when I had told you I was available to help with that hunt was what you thought best for him? Or, could it have been that you wanted to show him just who was in charge? He's your son, John, and if you aren't careful, you're going to lose him."

_"Caleb, I think…"_

"He tried to shoot himself, Johnny. He went after a Wendigo on his own. Doesn't that tell you something? Sounds to me like a person who doesn't care about their own well being."

_"I know Sam's upset right now, Caleb. I get that, but I thought I was doing what he wanted by letting him go to Bobby's. Instead, he came to you…"_

"About that. He thinks you gave in because you wanted him gone…"

_"That's not true. I didn't want him to go. Caleb, if you'd just tell me where you are…"_

"John, I'm not telling you where we are. Sam needs to know that he has someone he can trust, and right now, that's me. I don't think you understand the magnitude of what's going on with the kid. He blames himself for Mary's death. He thinks you blame him too…"

Caleb heard John sigh before the man spoke again. _"I've talked to Sam about this. I told him that I didn't blame him and that he shouldn't blame himself…"_

"Well, he didn't believe you. That kid is hurting so badly, Johnny. He doesn't think he belongs with his own family. He believes that Dean cares about him, but he doesn't think you do. He…uh…he…"

_"He what, Caleb?"_

"He thinks you both would be better off if he'd have been able to pull the trigger."

_"Oh God. Caleb, please tell me where you are. Please."_

"Look, I'll talk to the kid when he wakes up. I think you need to be here, John, but I can't betray his trust. I just can't. He cried himself to sleep in my arms. I've seen Sam scared and I've seen him upset, but I've never seen him cry. Not one time. He started and he couldn't stop…not until he literally passed out from exhaustion. He's on the edge, Johnny and if something isn't done, he's gonna go over."

Caleb could hear a rustling and concluded that John had sat up in bed. He knew he was putting a lot on the hunter's plate, but this was the man's son and the kid needed help. John cleared his throat before he spoke again. _"Caleb, please…just do what you can to get him to understand that he needs to be with his family. I can't fix this if I don't know where he is and if he won't talk to me. Just…tell him that it's hurting Dean. He'll listen if its Dean. You won't be lying either. Dean's about to lose it himself."_

"I'll talk to him. I agree that he needs to be with you, but only if you recognize that his feelings, that his interests are just as valid as yours. I'll get back to you."

_"Okay, Caleb. Look, I know what you think of me now, but I'm trying the best I can to fix what I've done. Just…keep him safe for us…please."_

"Johnny, I know its got to be hard for you…living this life with two kids. I don't think less of you. I'm pissed as hell, but I still think of you as family. Dean and Sam are like the brothers I lost. And you know that Sammy is extra special to me. I'll work on him, but I need to know that you're going to help him. No more guilt trips or comparing him to Dean. It's killing him, Johnny."

_"I promise, Caleb. Just talk to him."_

"I will. Hey, gotta go. I don't want him waking up alone. I'll call you later."

_"Thanks Caleb, even though you tore me a new one, I owe you."_

"Yes you do old man. Yes you do," Caleb said with a short chuckle before he flipped his phone shut and moved silently back into the room.

He moved a chair next to the bed and propped his feet up on the edge. He eyed the still sleeping boy and sighed softly. "What am I going to do with you, Half pint? You're breaking my heart, kid. You're breaking my heart."

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John leaned back against the headboard of his bed and rubbed a hand over his scruffy face. What Caleb had told him cut him to the bone. His baby was hurting and he was to blame. What was worse was that he wasn't able to make things right because once again, he'd screwed up. He'd let Sam leave when instead he should have made him stay. He should have sat the boy down and made him get everything he needed to say out in the open. He should have been a father to the boy instead of thinking that by giving in to Sam's request he was helping him. What he did was drive the boy further away. Now, he had no idea where his son was and had to depend on his friends to watch over the boy when it should be him doing it. John looked over to the other bed and smiled as he watched his oldest son sleep. The young man was just as exhausted as he was and had finally collapsed into a deep sleep and had yet to move a muscle. John was just about to scoot back down under the covers when his phone rang again. John flipped it open as quickly as he could so as not to wake Dean up.

"John Winchester," he quipped into the phone.

_"John, its Joshua."_

"Josh. Let me guess, you got my number from Bobby?" John said with a smile.

_"You got it. Look, Johnny…we need to talk."_

"Talk about what?" John asked.

_"About Sam. I know where he is."_

"What!? How do you know that?"

_"He's with Caleb. I'm with Caleb too…kind of."_

"What do you mean, kind of?"

_"We're on a hunt. Sam doesn't know. At least I don't think he does. Caleb says he hasn't said anything to him."_

"You're on a hunt? For what?"

_"Uh…vampires…"_

"What? They're just a myth, Josh. You guys are wasting your time."

_"That's what we thought too, but we were wrong. We've been tracking these suckers for going on six months."_

"Okay, so what do you want to talk about?"

_"Caleb and I haven't been staying together. We figured if we stayed apart, we'd be able to keep hidden from the vamps better. Anyway, Sam showed up and I really don't think he should be around this hunt. These vamps are bad news. Most of their victims have been kids Sam's age. I don't know what's going on between you and the kid, but I do know he shouldn't be anywhere near here."_

John sat up straighter in the bed as he absorbed Joshua's words. Sam could be in danger and he wasn't there to protect him. "Joshua…where are you? Dean and I can be on the road in a half an hour. Just tell me where you are and we'll be there."

_"Look, I know Caleb promised Sam he wouldn't tell where Sam was, but I didn't. I hate to do this to the kid, especially after what Caleb's told me, but I don't see any other option. Uh…we're in Santa Fe. Caleb's staying at the Painted Desert Inn. Room 16."_

John was off the bed in an instant and shaking Dean's shoulder. "Thanks, Joshua! I owe you big time. We're on our way. Just…keep Sammy away from that hunt. The kid is bound and determined to get himself killed," John said as he held a finger up to his sleepy, confused older son as the young man tumbled out of bed.

_"Just get here, Johnny. We're closing in on these vamps and I'm afraid that if they catch Sam's scent, they'll go after him."_

"Why would Caleb keep him if he knew there was danger there?" John asked angrily, shaking off Dean's insistent questions as he listened to his friend.

_"He's sure Sam will be fine at the motel. It's nowhere near where we think the vamps are holed up, but Sam's scent would be on Caleb. They get that scent? They could come after the kid."_

"Okay…we're almost out the door. Just…please, keep Sam as far away from that hunt as you can. I don't know how long it'll take us to get there, but we'll get there as soon as we can."

_"I'll do what I can, Johnny. Just get here. We can't just wait on these vamps. People are dying. Kids are dying."_

"I know. We'll be there as soon as we can. Thanks, Josh."

_"You're welcome. See you soon."_

"Bye, Josh."

John flipped the phone shut and turned to his oldest son. Dean was stuffing things into duffels without looking, his wide green eyes instead glued on his father. John turned to find his clothes and hurriedly began to change, the man knowing that he'd have to tell Dean what was going on, but afraid to tell him that Sam was in danger. He had put Sam into that position and Dean would not be happy with this latest development.

"Dad? What's going on? Where's Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice filled with worry.

"He's in Santa Fe. We have to get there as soon as we can," John answered as he stuffed his sleep clothes into his duffel and stood from the bed.

"Santa Fe? And what's Josh doing there?" Dean queried.

"Uh…he's…he…"

"Dad…just tell me. He's my brother."

"Caleb didn't tell me that he was on a hunt. With Joshua. Josh is afraid that Sam could get caught in the middle."

"Why. He could just stay at the motel while they do the hunt." Dean stared at his dad, confused as to why his father and Joshua were so freaked.

"Listen, Dean. They've been tracking a nest of vampires and…"

"Vampires? They don't exist," Dean said with an incredulous laugh. "You told me that. Don't get me wrong, I want to get to Sam, but I don't see why you're freaking out about it. Even if vamps did exist, as long as Sam stays at the motel, he should be fine."

"Dean, first of all, Josh said that vamps do exist. Second, if Sam knows that they are on a hunt, do you really think he'll stay at the motel? Look at how he's been since Gresham. And third…"

Dean glanced at his father when the man hesitated to say more. "What, Dad? What are you not telling me?"

"Most of the vamps victims have been kids Sam's age. Josh is afraid that they'll catch his scent from Caleb if they get close enough. He's afraid they'll go after Sam," John answered as he watched Dean's eyes widen with sudden panic.

"What the hell!? Why would Caleb let Sam stay there if there was a chance he could be in danger? I'm gonna kick his ass! Son of a bitch!"

"Dean, calm down. Caleb probably figured that Sam would be safe at the motel. What else was he supposed to do with him? Put him on a bus and send him away?"

Dean glanced at his father, coldness in his eyes. "No, Dad. That's what you do."

John lowered his eyes, knowing he deserved Dean's ire, but also knowing they didn't have time to get into it right now. He looked up and narrowed his dark eyes. "Look, I know I shouldn't have let him go, but we need to put this aside right now. We need to get moving. It's a long drive to New Mexico and Josh says they can't hold off on the hunt. Once we get Sam back, you can jump on me all you want."

Dean took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right. Let's get our asses moving then," he said as he moved toward the bathroom to retrieve their toiletries.

John nodded and moved gather their bags while Dean cleared the bathroom. Once they had the Impala loaded up, the were on the road and speeding toward Santa Fe with one goal in mind. Find their youngest and bring him home where he belonged.

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Caleb glanced toward the bed where Sam was sitting watching TV. He hated to leave the kid, but he and Joshua were due to meet in fifteen minutes to discuss their plans for the hunt and he needed to keep Sam in the dark about the whole thing. He couldn't allow the boy anywhere near the hunt. He had wanted to send Sam right to Bobby's when the boy had shown up, but one look at the kid told him that would not be a good idea. Caleb had a bit of a psychic streak and he knew the second he laid eyes on Sam that if he sent him away, none of them would ever see him again. Caleb could sense that the teen was hurting and one more rejection would send him right over the edge. He had kept the hunt a secret from Sam in the hopes that they'd be able to finish the vamps off without Sam being none the wiser. He was worried though about leaving him unprotected. If Joshua was right about his concerns and if they weren't able to wipe the vamp nest out, the nasty bastards could very well come after Sam and the boy would not be able to fight off the creatures.

"Uh…Sammy?" Caleb started.

Sam looked up and eyed his friend questioningly. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna go down to the bar for awhile. I want you to stay in this room and do not leave. I've got the salt lines poured so you'll be safe."

"Okay. I'll be fine, Caleb. Just gonna watch some TV for awhile then I'm gonna turn in. Have fun," Sam said with a slight smile.

"You sure you'll be okay, Half pint?" Caleb queried.

"I'll be fine, Caleb. I know I freaked you out earlier, but I'll be fine. Really," Sam said in reply.

Caleb chewed on his bottom lip as he eyed his young charge. "Okay. Remember, stay in the room. Don't open the door for anybody."

"I will. Don't worry."

Caleb gave a quick nod then opened the door and stepped out into the dry desert air. They had a few hours until it began to get dark so he was hoping he and Joshua could get set up before then. They needed to eradicate these vamps before they killed any more kids. More importantly, they needed to wipe them out to ensure that Sam was safe from them. Caleb took one uneasy glance at the door then made his way to his SUV. He climbed in, started the engine and pulled away from the motel. He pulled slowly out of the parking lot and moved down the street toward the small diner two blocks away, never seeing the door to his room open and the gangly teen under his care emerge then hurry across the parking lot as soon as he turned onto the street.

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Caleb climbed out of his SUV and watched as Joshua emerged from his quarter ton pickup. They both scanned the trees around them then turned their eyes onto the abandoned barn that stood some ways off in the distance. Caleb nodded at Joshua and they both moved to their respective vehicles to retrieve their weapons they felt they would need for the hunt. Caleb pulled the hatch window at the back of his SUV open and jumped back in surprise when Sam sat up in the back. Caleb grabbed his chest as he eyed the teen with shock.

"Sam! What the hell are you doing here! Son of bitch! You scared the crap out of me!" Caleb hissed, not wanting his voice to carry over the forest and alert the vamps to their presence.

Joshua heard the commotion and hurried over to Caleb, his eyes going wide when he saw Sam climb out from the back of the SUV. "Sam? What're you doing here?" he queried worriedly.

"I wasn't going to be left behind. You guys need help and I'm here…"

"What makes you think we need help?" Caleb asked.

"I've heard you on the phone, Caleb. I know you're hunting vampires. From what I've read, they can be pretty slick," Sam answered as his eyes flicked from one hunter to the other.

"So, when I thought you were asleep, you were really eavesdropping?" Caleb asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, but after I figured out you were on a hunt, I thought maybe I could help you," Sam said.

"Well, you can't! You need to get out of here right now. It's not safe for you here, Sammy," Joshua hissed.

"I'm not leaving. You guys can't go after them on your own…"

"We've been tracking these suckers for six months. They're targeting teens your age. You can't be here," Joshua said in reply.

"What? You want me to walk out? I'm here and we're running out of daylight. Now, I've done quite a bit of research on vampires even though we've all been told they're just a myth. From what I've gathered, you can't kill them with a stake through the heart and sunlight won't kill them either. Holy water will burn them…"

"Sam, how do you know all of this?" Joshua asked.

"I like research and vampires have always intrigued me. I never accepted they weren't real just because no one in recent history has ever come across one. I think I may know something that may work on killing them," Sam answered.

"You do? What's that?" Caleb asked, his eyes narrowed with interest.

"I think that if you were to behead the vamp, you could kill it that way. I mean, how could it survive without its head? It seems like it could work," Sam said as he glanced from Caleb to Joshua.

The two older hunters glanced at each other, Caleb shrugging his shoulders at Joshua's questioning look. "It sounds as likely as anything. I have a machete. Couldn't hurt to bring it. What about you, Joshua?"

"I may have something in the truck…"

"What about me? I need something too," Sam asked.

"Uh…no you don't. Caleb will drive you back to the motel and then you're going to stay put this time!" Joshua shot.

"There's no time for that. It's going to be dark soon and if we don't get these suckers tonight, more people will die," Sam said.

"And your daddy and brother will kill us if they find out you were out here with us! If anything happens to you, we may as well leave the country," Joshua said.

"They don't have to know. Just…"

"Sam, they'll go right for you," Caleb said.

"Then we'll have to be ready for them. We're wasting time guys. I can do this. You know I can, Caleb," Sam replied.

Caleb and Joshua looked at each other then back at Sam. "Fine, but you stay right with me. Josh is going to go around the barn. We'll stay on this side. Sam, I mean it. You stay right with me," Caleb said.

Sam nodded and turned to help get the weapons out of the SUV. Joshua shook his head and stepped toward his truck. He pulled open the tool box and started to pull out weapons. He came back to the other two hunters and silently handed Sam a machete. He held another in his hand and soon the three machete wielding hunters were moving toward the barn. Joshua broke off from the other two and disappeared into the trees. Sam watched him then turned his attention back to the barn. His heart pounded in his chest as the excitement consumed him. This could be the time that he finally does something to earn his father's approval and admiration.

Caleb glanced sideways at his young friend and a wave of uneasiness washed over him. He had a very bad feeling about this and wanted nothing more than to turn around and drag Sam away from this place as fast as he could.

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"How much further, Dad?" Dean queried as he glanced over at his father.

John glanced back at his son then turned to look back out the windshield. "We're about an hour out," he answered.

"Can't you drive faster? It's getting dark," Dean cried softly as he fidgeted in the seat.

"Dean, I'm already pushing it. We'll get there. Caleb won't let anything happen to Sammy. Don't worry," John said, the man pushing his own fears to the back of his mind.

"I can't help it. How could Caleb be so stupid? If he was on a hunt, he should have told us where they were so we could get Sam out of there…especially if Sam is in danger," Dean shot.

"I know, Dean. I'm going to have a long talk with the psychic wonder once this whole mess is taken care of. Let's just worry about getting there right now," John said.

"Whatever…just hurry," Dean groused.

They drove for ten more minutes before the silence was broken by John's cell phone ringing. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and flipped it open. "John Winchester," he said as he glanced at Dean across the seat.

_"Johnny, it's Josh."_

"Josh. What's going on? We're almost there. Once we get there, I'll have Dean take Sam away then we can go after the vamps. We'll…"

_ "You need to hurry. I'm so sorry…"_

"Josh…what's wrong? You're scaring me buddy," John cried, his heart dropping into his stomach at the panic he heard in Joshua's voice.

_"Johnny, I…god…I don't know what to say."_

"Just tell me, Josh. Please." John glanced across the seat at his oldest son. Dean's face mirrored the terror he was feeling and he had to turn away to keep from completely losing it.

_"The vamps…they…they were…Johnny, they got Caleb and Sam."_

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**Yep. Just couldn't leave the kid alone. Now, any Dean fans reading, don't worry. There will be hurt Dean coming up soon and much, much angst. Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone! I have the next chapter for you. There is a bit of violence, but nothing too bad. I know I promised some hurt Dean and there will be some, just not in this chapter. I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

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_The Capture_

Caleb pulled Sam behind him as he crouched down in some tall grass some two hundred yards south of the barn. He held a finger to his lips to let Sam know to stay quiet as he searched the area for any sign if the vampires. He didn't think he'd see them as there was still some light in the sky. He remembered what Sam had said about sunlight not killing vampires like myth said it would, but all of the killings had occurred at night so he was sure they would have time to make their way into the barn and kill the bloodsuckers before they emerged to start another hunt. He was wrong. Caleb was just turning his head to look at Sam when suddenly, the vampires were upon them. Sam was ripped from Caleb's hold and flung some twenty feet away. Caleb cried out in surprise as he too was thrown in the opposite direction. He could hear Sam's screams as the boy was attacked and he fought to break free from the vampires who pulled at him.

Suddenly, Caleb heard a different scream and the vampires who held him let him go as they rushed toward the area where Sam had been thrown. Caleb struggled to his feet, his eyes flying wide with surprise when he saw a bloodied Sam swinging his machete and vampire heads flying. Caleb stumbled toward his young friend and nearly reached him when he was tackled to the ground by two male vampires. The vampires lifted him from the ground and he cried out when he felt teeth pierce the flesh of his throat. He turned dazed eyes toward where Sam struggled and his heart sunk when he could only see four vampires tugging and punching, their hisses of outrage filling his ears. Sam's screams of agony followed Caleb into the darkness.

Caleb came awake slowly and with growing confusion at the pain in his body, particularly his neck. He struggled to open his eyes and it was when he had managed to pull the lids apart that he realized his arms were pulled above his head and secured to some sort of beam or pillar. He gazed around and took in the dirty interior of what appeared to be an old barn and it was then that he remembered what had brought him here. Sudden panic washed over him as he also remembered the young teen who had been with him. He jerked his head around, hissing at the pain the action caused him, but not caring as he tried to locate Sam. The boy was nowhere to be seen and Caleb cried out softly at the idea that his young charge could already be dead. All Caleb could think was that he had failed Sam. The boy had come to him for help and for comfort and instead had gotten captured by vampires that he shouldn't even had been anywhere near.

Caleb cursed himself for not listening to his gut. He had come so close to ditching the hunt so he could get Sam as far away from Sante Fe as he could, but instead had erroneously thought he could take out the vamps and keep Sam safe at the same time. How wrong he had been, and now Sam was for sure badly hurt, if not dead. Caleb jerked his arms down, trying to pull his wrists free from the shackles that held him. A scuffling sound had the hunter jerking his head around again and within moments he caught his first sight of his young friend. Sam was being dragged across the dirt floor of the barn by the rope that bound his ankles together, his limp arms dragging loosely above his head. When the vampire had Sam in front of Caleb, he turned and smiled, his sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight that flooded the barn through a large hole in the ceiling. He walked in a circle, dragging Sam around before dropping the boy's feet to the floor and strolling away.

Caleb stared at the teen, unable to tear his eyes away from the damage done to his young body. Sam's shirts had been removed, as had been his shoes and socks. His entire torso was riddled with dark bruises and bitemarks. His face wasn't much better. Both eyes were blackened, a deep gash decorated his forehead above his right eye and his lips were fattened and split. Caleb used his heels to scoot himself up straighter, his eyes never leaving Sam's still form. His eyes fell to the hand that lay on the dirt, long, delicate fingers curled in toward the palm and he sucked in an angered breath when he saw the teeth marks on Sam's wrist.

"Sammy…hey…Half pint…open your eyes," Caleb called urgently as he tugged once more at the shackles that held him in place, the pain he had woken to forgotten as the severity of Sam's injuries slammed into him.

There was no movement from the teen and Caleb suddenly flicked his eyes to Sam's chest, praying to see the rise and fall of his breathing. He released the breath he'd been holding when he detected movement. Sam was alive. Badly hurt, but alive. Caleb wondered about Joshua and hoped that he hadn't been found out. If he hadn't, then he would now be at the motel, calling in all hunters close enough to get to their location in time to possibly save the two captured hunters. Caleb thought of John and Dean. They were too far away to be of any help. So was Bobby. The situation seemed hopeless at the moment. Joshua couldn't attempt a rescue on his own. There would be three dead hunters if he tried. A low moan snapped Caleb out of his thoughts and he jerked his eyes back to Sam. Sam's head rolled slightly as he moaned again. His eyes squinted open although the swelling from the beating kept him from being able to open them fully. What Caleb could see in those hazel depths told him everything he needed to know about how much pain Sam was in.

Tears leaked from Sam's eyes as he gazed at Caleb. He licked his swollen lips and tried to speak, but a garbled croak came out instead.

"Don't try to talk, Sammy," Caleb said as he gave Sam a reassuring smile.

Sam nodded slightly and kept his gaze on Caleb. He hissed as he tried to move and more tears leaked from his slitted eyes. "Look, kiddo," Caleb started, his heart breaking for his young charge. "I know it hurts, but we're gonna get out of this and you're gonna be fine. Just hang in there okay?"

Sam opened his eyes a bit wider and shook his head. "'m s'ry," he whispered hoarsely. "'s my fault."

"No, Sammy. It's not your fault. It's mine. I should have dragged you out of here the second I saw you in my rig. I shouldn't have let you stay at all knowing what could happen," Caleb soothed.

Sam closed his eyes as he turned his head away. Caleb called out to him, but the boy did not respond. Caleb was more than concerned about the boy. Throughout their exchange, the only thing Sam had moved was his head. His fingers had twitched, but other than that, nothing. The older hunter scrutinized Sam's body again, horrified at what he saw. There was an area of Sam's stomach that was deeply bruised and looked swollen. Caleb was afraid that he may have internal bleeding, but without being able to get a closer look, he couldn't be sure. He swept his gaze back up Sam's body and frowned.

"Sam…come on, look at me, kiddo," Caleb called, worried that Sam may have passed out again.

Sam slowly rolled his head back and opened his eyes. Caleb smiled slightly, his heart aching for the boy. "Hey there. You still with me?"

Sam nodded and swallowed painfully. "'m here," he whispered.

"Okay, here's the thing. I need to know how badly you're hurt. Can you tell if anything's broken?" Caleb queried.

Sam closed his eyes and Caleb could see more tears trickle down Sam's bruised, bloodied cheeks. Sam's eyes opened again and he gazed sadly at his friend. "Can't f-feel…legs," he answered then licked his dry lips.

Caleb's eyes widened as they swept to the teens legs. The boy hadn't moved them since he'd been dumped in front of him. He gazed back up at Sam's face and saw the utter despair in his hazel orbs. "Sam…it's gonna be okay. I'm sure it's nothing," Caleb said, hoping like hell he was right.

"D'sn't matter. Gonna die…"

"No! Don't talk like that. You aren't going to die! We're getting out of here."

Sam shook his head and gazed sadly at the older hunter. "No…n-not this time. I-I'm…m'sed up."

"Sammy," Caleb started, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from his right.

Caleb turned his head, his heart hammering in his chest when the vampire from earlier, plus a female strolled across the barn floor. They barely glanced Caleb's way as they moved to stand over Sam. They laughed as they gazed down at the broken boy. The male gave Sam's side a quick kick, causing the teen to whimper in pain.

"Hey! You son of a bitch! Leave him alone or I'll rip your fucking head off!" Caleb screamed, his furious eyes moving from Sam's pain creased face to the leering vampire.

The male laughed as he crouched down next to Sam, his shockingly blue eyes glaring at Caleb as he grabbed Sam's arm and jerked him up from the floor. Sam's scream filled the barn as he was dragged across the floor. He was turned and shoved against a support beam, the vampire letting him drop down to the floor before his arms were pulled up over his head. Shackles were clamped around his wrists then the vampire let him go. Sam's body sagged as the pain overwhelmed him. He lifted his head and stared across the barn as Caleb's furious shouts carried across the building. The female kneeled down beside him then reached down and pulled his legs out from beneath him until he was seated on the floor. She gazed over her shoulder at Caleb then moved to straddle Sam's legs. She took the teen's face in her hands and lifted it up to meet hers. She laughed as Caleb once again threatened to tear she and her partner apart.

"Your friend doesn't really get that he can't do a damned thing about anything, does he?" the female cooed as she leaned in and nuzzled Sam's neck.

Sam whimpered as the vampire began to tease his neck with her tongue. Her right hand slid down from his face and over his chest, her nails scratching over his tender, bruised flesh. "Do you want to know why we choose ones so young?" she whispered into his ear as her hand caressed his too hot skin. "Their blood is so much sweeter than the older ones. And their flesh? Gives me goosebumps just thinking about it."

"Get the fuck away from him you pointy teeth bitch!" Caleb screamed with all the rage of a mad dog.

The female turned her head and smiled then turned back around and smashed her lips against Sam's, the boy whimpering all the more as his split lips were crushed. Suddenly, the female was pulled away from his body and Sam sagged forward, his head dropping to his heaving chest.

"Not yet, my sweet Magdeline. Soon…very soon you can have your fun, but now we have to prepare," the male said as he ran his long nailed fingers through the female's lush ebony locks.

"But Frederic, he is so soft and his blood is the sweetest yet. Why can't I take him now?" the female queried in a soft, sensual voice.

"There will be more hunters coming. I'm sure I smelled a third scent, but I can't detect it now. They won't leave their comrades to die. After we have killed the older hunter and the others who will come, my dear. Then you can do whatever you wish with the boy. You can even keep him if you want," the male cooed, his hand brushing lovingly over the female's cheek.

The female nodded and smiled as she leaned into the male's touch. "Yes, I would like very much to keep him. He is special, my love," she said before silently walking away.

The male glanced first at Caleb, smiling menacingly at the hunter's outrage, then he glanced back at Sam. He stood over the boy for several moments before walking away without another word. Caleb watched the vampire leave then jerked his eyes back to Sam. The teen's chin still rested on his chest and he made no move to lift it.

"Sam? Hey…Half pint, they're gone. Talk to me, kid. You alright?" Caleb called, but received no response.

Caleb watched Sam for several minutes before he collapsed back against the beam he was restrained to. The kid was out for the count, but he was breathing. For how long, Caleb had no idea. Even from this far away, he could see the sheen of perspiration that coated Sam's body. He could see the erratic way his chest moved. Sam was in deep trouble if they weren't rescued soon. Caleb had no way of knowing how long he had been out so he had no way of knowing if help would be arriving soon. He had been able to gleam one bit of positive information though. The vampires hadn't found Joshua, so there was no doubt help was on the way. He just didn't know if that help would arrive in time to save the youngest Winchester.

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John screeched to a halt in front of room 16 at the motel Joshua had given him directions to. He and Dean were out of the vehicle and moving toward the door in seconds, neither one slowing as the door was pulled open and Joshua stepped aside to let them in.

"John…Dean, it's good to see you," Josh said as he closed the door behind them.

"Just cut the bullshit, Josh. Tell me where to find my son so we can get him back!" John hissed as his eyes flitted over the room. His heart picked up speed when he saw Sam's duffel sitting on the floor next to the far wall.

"Johnny, I'm sorry…I really am. If it were up to me, Sam would've been on the next bus out of here, but Caleb…he said he just couldn't do it to the kid," Joshua said apologetically.

"Yeah, and now they may both be dead!" Dean cried from where he stood next to the door.

Josh dropped his eyes to the floor and shook his head. He could feel the pain and fear radiating from the men and it nearly bowled him over. He knew that pain. He felt it too. He looked up, but said nothing. A sudden knock at the door had the two Winchesters spinning around and going for their weapons. The voice that called out from the other side of the door had them relaxing as much as they could under the circumstances. Dean opened the door and barely managed a smile as Bobby hurried into the room.

"Dean…John. Good to see you two," Bobby said as he shook the men's hands.

"What're you doing here, Bobby?" John asked, his dark eyes moving from the older man to Joshua then back.

"Josh and Caleb had called and said they needed help with a nest of vampires. Took some convincing on their part to get me to believe 'em. I was on my way…about two hours out when Josh called to say the vamps got Caleb and Sammy. I put the pedal to the metal," Bobby explained in a rushed voice.

"Thanks for coming, Bobby," Dean said before turning his attention back to Joshua. "So, we going to get my brother or are we gonna sit around here and shoot the breeze?"

"They're holed up about five miles out of town. About the only semi forested area in these parts. It's mostly desert around here," Joshua said as he moved to the door, the other hunters on his heel. "Make sure you have your machete's. Sam figured out how to kill the suckers. Found three of them decapitated near where I left them."

The others nodded as they poured out of the room. Bobby jumped into Joshua's truck while the Winchesters loaded back into the Impala. Within minutes they were on the road toward the barn where their family members were being held. They each said silent prayers that they would find their loved ones alive. There was going to be a bloodbath that night. The vampires would rue the day they ever laid a hand on Sam and Caleb.

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**So, that's it for now. The next chapter will be the rescue. Oh yeah, and the hurt Dean. Can't leave him out of the fun! Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	19. Chapter 19

**So, I got this chapter done quicker than I thought. I don't really know how happy I am with it, but I figured if I was ever going to get anything posted, I better just do it.**

**Cindy.**

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John's eyes were glued to the road as he followed Joshua's truck, his mind going over the past weeks events over and over. He had pissed off so many opportunities to make things right with Sam and now he may have lost his baby boy. He would never forgive himself if they didn't save his son and he knew without a doubt that Dean would never forgive him either. John glanced across the seat at his oldest son and wasn't surprised to find Dean sitting straight up in his seat, his hands gripping his knees in a way that looked painful. His eyes were wide as he stared out the windshield, his body so tense, John was sure that if he slammed on the brakes, his son may just break in two.

"Dean…Dean, look at me," John called, smiling when Dean finally turned his head and glanced over at him.

"What?" Dean said, his voice just as tense as his body.

"We're going to get him back…you know that, right?" John replied, his dark eyes narrowing as Dean collapsed back against his seat.

"Dad…the vamps have had them for hours. I just…I don't know. Why would they keep them alive? I think my baby brother may be dead and I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't do this without him…what are we going to do!?" Dean cried and John knew that he had to do something before Dean had a full blown panic attack.

"Dean…Sam's not dead. At least I don't think he is. Just sit back and close your eyes," John said, his eyes moving from the road before him to his son and back. Once Dean had done what he was told, John continued. "Now, does if feel like Sam's gone? Come on, tell me that you can feel him."

Dean listened to his father's voice and then concentrated on Sam. At first all he felt was empty, but then there was a small glimmer of something else. A faint light in the emptiness. His heart began to beat faster as the glimmer grew. He sat up, opened his eyes and stared over at his father. "Dad…how did…what…I don't understand," he stammered.

"You felt him?" John queried, his dark eyes wide.

"Yes, I felt him. Dad, what…"

"Thank God," John whispered in relief.

"Dad, what the hell is going on?" Dean shot.

"Come on, Dean. You and Sam have this bond, always have. You have always been able to sense your brother. You used to come home from preschool and would immediately ask if Sammy was okay even though you couldn't have possibly known there was anything off. Most days, everything was fine and you'd come home and play with Sam, but any day that Sam wasn't feeling well or something, you always knew. If you can feel him, then he's still alive," John explained.

"So, how come I've never noticed this?"

"Because, its just natural to you, Dean. You've always been this way, from the day Sam was brought home. You have a sixth sense when it comes to him…always have, always will."

Dean was just about to answer when John cursed under his breath and began to pull the Impala to the side of the road. Dean followed his father's gaze and watched as Joshua and Bobby exited the truck and made their way to the Impala. John and Dean both climbed out of the car and eyed the other two hunters with confusion.

"What the hell? Why are we stopping?" Dean cried. "We don't have time for this!"

"Dean, just settle your ass down a minute," Joshua started. "Bobby thinks there's a way we can get close to the barn without the vampires catching our scent."

"How?" John queried as he stared at his friends.

"I've made up a spray for us. It's got various herbs and plants to mask our scents. I did some research some time back," Bobby started, stopping at the questioning glances he received. "Sam was asking all kinds of questions, and well…anyway, I found a chapter in one of my books on how to cover your scent from vampires. I thought, what the heck…just in case. Anyway, after Josh and Caleb called me to come help with the hunt, I thought it couldn't hurt."

"So, why didn't we put this spray on at the motel?" John asked.

"I just wanted to make sure it didn't wear off. We can put it on now since Josh says we're almost there," Bobby said.

"Okay, whatever. Spray me down so we can get back on the road. Sam and Caleb don't have time for us to just be standing around!" Dean spat, his arms held out from his sides.

Bobby shook his head and pulled a large spray bottle from his pack. The men sprayed each other down as quickly as they could then climbed back into their vehicles and hit the road. Fifteen minutes later, they had stopped their vehicles and were gathered in together, discussing their course of action. Once each hunter knew what they needed to do, they hurried off toward the barn. The hunters kept their eyes peeled for any movement as they crept up to the old structure, keeping to the shadows to remain out of sight of any sentries that may be wathcing then moved around until they could see inside. Dean sneaked a peek inside and sucked in a short breath. He could see Caleb sitting on the dirt floor of the barn, his arms pulled above his head and shackled to a support beam in the middle of the barn. Caleb was staring intently across the barn, his eyes filled with rage at something Dean couldn't see. Dean's eyes flitted over the barn, but he could not see Sam anywhere. Caleb's furious voice pulled his attention back to the older hunter.

"Get the hell off of him you bitch!" the hunter screamed, his voice reverberating through the building.

Dean pulled back and turned to his fellow hunters. Each man looked ready to bolt inside, but they knew that wouldn't be the best course of action. They had to know where each vampire was, but when they heard the tortured scream that could only belong to Sam carry through the night air, all logical thought went out the door and the men crashed into the barn and all hell broke loose.

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Caleb couldn't take his eyes off of Sam. The boy did not look good. He was trying as hard as he could to cover up how much pain he was in, but with Caleb's trained eye, he could tell that Sam was in agony. The shallow breathing, the sheen of sweat that covered him, the soft whimpers that Sam obviously didn't think that Caleb could hear. Sam was running out of time and Caleb was running out of hope that a rescue would come in time to save the kid. It could already be too late. If Sam had internal bleeding, depending on the severity of that bleeding, they may not be able to save him. Caleb continued to watch Sam, his heart breaking when the boy could no longer hold in the tears that he had valiantly fought against.

"Sammy…it's going to be okay. We're getting out of here. Just hang on a little longer, kiddo," Caleb called, wanting nothing more than to go to the teen and carry him out of this horrible place.

Sam looked up, his face veiled in misery. He shook his head, that simple action seeming to take everything out of him. "No…I'm not. It hurts so bad, Caleb. I just…I wish I could just die already," he said softly, his voice barely carrying over to Caleb.

"Don't say that, Sammy. Don't you ever say that! You have to live…you have to fight!" Caleb cried.

"I can't anymore, Caleb. It's just too hard. I'm not strong enough," Sam slurred, his voice weak.

"Sam, you don't want to fight for yourself, then fight for Dean. He needs you, kiddo. He won't make it without you. You know it's true, Sam. You know it is," Caleb pleaded, his voice breaking as he thought of a world without Sam and Dean.

Sam gazed at Caleb, tears streaming unbidden down his cheeks. He somehow, despite his weakened state, pulled himself up straighter and squared his shoulders. He nodded, but said nothing. Suddenly he turned his eyes to his left and sucked in a frightened breath. Caleb followed his stare and cursed under his breath. The female vampire was back and she had eyes only for the youngest Winchester. She made her way to Sam, ignoring Caleb's threats as she dropped down next to the terrified teen and immediately began to caress his bared chest. Sam jerked away from her touch, but that didn't stop her from moving closer to him.

"Your boyfriend told you to leave him alone!" Caleb screamed in outrage.

The female turned to look at Caleb and smiled. "Well, he's not here right now, is he?" she cooed before turning her attention back to Sam.

"It's okay, little one. I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax and you may enjoy yourself a little." The vampire moved to straddle Sam's legs then grasped his face in her hands. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, the boy fighting as hard as he could, but lacking any real strength to do anything. Her hands moved from Sam's face back to his chest then began to creep lower. Sam whimpered as she pulled away from his lips and began to move her own lips down his throat to his collarbone.

"Get the hell off of him you bitch!" Caleb screamed, the older hunters face red with fury.

The vampire pulled away and turned toward Caleb, an evil smirk on her red lips. She turned back toward Sam, but wasn't prepared for the boy to spat in her face. She hissed in fury as she moved her hands to his side where he'd been injured by the werewolf and dug her sharp nails deep into the wound, tearing out stitches as she drug her fingers downward. The scream that tore from Sam's throat filled Caleb with dread and fury. Suddenly, there was the sound of rage filled curses as John, Dean and the others crashed into the barn, machetes raised to kill.

"You fucking bitch! Get away from my brother!" Dean screamed as he lunged toward the female vampire.

Startled, the female fell back off of Sam, but gained her feet in one swift movement. She hissed as Dean moved between her and Sam, then she let out an ear piercing screech which the hunters knew was meant to bring the other vamps back to the barn. Dean lunged forward again, but the female jumped with him, slashing out at him with her sharp nails and slicing his cheek in the process. Dean grunted as he gritted his teeth. He spun around and before the vampire could do any more damage, he swung his arms and sliced through her neck, her head hitting the dirt floor with a dull thud.

"Eat that, freaky bitch! Nobody touches my brother!" Dean snarled as he moved toward Sam.

Dean dropped down next to his brother then looked up as John knelt down beside him. They both looked at Sam with worried eyes. Sam was pale and covered with sweat. His body was riddled with bruises and cuts and numerous bites. Even more worrisome was the now reopened wound in his side and the bruised, extended area on his other side. John reached out and cupped Sam's cheek then gently lifted his face up. Dull, wet eyes stared at him and John had to take a deep breath to keep from crying.

"D'd? You came?" Sam whispered, his voice so quiet it was hard to hear his words, but hear them John did.

"Of course I came for you, Sammy. Did you think I wouldn't?" John queried, his voice shaky with emotion.

"No…tho…" Sam started, but his voice tapered off as his head listed in John's hand.

"Hey…Sammy…wake up. We need you to keep your eyes open," Dean said urgently as he reached out to gently grasp Sam's arm.

Sam pulled his eyes open and gazed blurrily up into Dean's face. "D'n…hurts," he said softly.

"I know, kiddo. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?" Dean replied.

A sudden screeching sound startled the hunters, causing Bobby and Joshua to abandon their efforts to free Caleb from his shackles. The four rescuers stood between the approaching vampires and their helpless comrades, their weapons held high. Dean lifted his shoulder and wiped the blood that flowed from the cuts in his cheek onto his jacket, his eyes never leaving the hissing creatures that attempted to surround them. For several moments, the hunters and the vampires were in a standoff, but it didn't last long. From behind the vampires, a taller male approached. His dark hair flowed over his broad shoulders as he moved between his clan members. His luminescent eyes fell upon the beheaded body of the female and his calm, almost pleasant face turned feral in a split second.

"Magdeline…my beautiful, sweet lady," the male whispered before turning his now red eyes upon the hunters. "I will gut your boy as you all watch for what you have done to my Magdeline."

"You won't lay a finger on him, you bloodsucking son of a bitch," John hissed as he raised his machete a bit higher above his shoulder.

"I will do more than that hunter," the vampire snarled before lunging forward.

The barn was filled with the sounds of the battle and as the last vampire head fell, the dirt floor wet with spilled vampire blood, the hunters collapsed in exhaustion, taking a quick moment to gather their strength. John heaved a heavy sigh as he crawled on hands and knees to his youngest son. They had managed to keep the vampires away from Sam and Caleb thankfully, but now they had the problem of how to release the two from their shackles. John reached out and touched Sam's cheek, flinching at the unnatural heat that arose from his skin.

"Sammy…it's over. We're going to get you out of here. You're going to be okay," John whispered, but Sam was no longer conscious.

John pulled back, his face stricken as he stared at his baby boy. He looked around at his fellow hunters. They were picking through the bodies, but one hunter was frighteningly missing.

"Dean?" John called, his head whipping around, eyes searching the barn for his oldest son.

The others stopped and looked around. Joshua's eyes went wide and he nearly slipped in the bloodied dirt as he rushed toward the far end of the barn. John was on his feet and flying after Joshua, the man pulling up short when he saw his son lying on the ground, the young man's feet scuffling in the dirt as he writhed in pain. John rushed around Joshua and nearly dropped to the ground when he saw what was causing his son so much pain. In the melee, Dean must have been thrown through one stall wall because sticking out of his side was a large, splintered piece of wood. The wood was coated with glistening blood, the sight of it making John sick to his stomach. He dropped to his knees and scuttled up next to his son. He pulled Dean's jacket open and carefully examined the wound.

John sucked in a fearful breath at what he saw. He couldn't know for sure if the wood had gone straight through muscle or if it had damaged any internal organs. He reached up and cupped Dean's cheek, smiling when glassy green eyes stared up at him.

"Hey, kid. Don't move, okay. Just lay as still as you can until we figure out how to get you out of here," John said, waiting until Dean nodded before turning his head to look at Joshua.

"I think it may have just gone straight through nothing, Johnny. I don't know for sure, but I think we may have gotten lucky here," Joshua said as he turned to look back down at Dean.

"Johnny…we need to get Sam out of here," Bobby called from where he was crouched down next to the youngest Winchester.

John turned, his heart dropping as he realized that for a moment, he had forgotten about his youngest son in his fear for his oldest. "Uh…we need to find the keys to those shackles," he called before turning back to Joshua. "Watch Dean. I need to help Bobby find the keys."

Joshua nodded and watched as John stood and walked toward his other son. It took ten minutes, but finally they found the keys in one vampire's pocket. Bobby took the keys and released Caleb, who immediately crawled on stiff knees to where Sam was still shackled. Bobby moved next to Sam and waited until John had a hold of him before he began to unlock the shackles. Bobby stopped when Caleb reached up and grabbed his arm. He stared down at the weak hunter, as did John.

"Caleb, what the hell?" John cried.

"It's Sam. He…uh…we need to be careful," Caleb answered as his eyes moved back to his young friend.

"Don't you think we know that, Caleb? We can't just leave him like this though. What's going on?" Bobby queried with confusion.

"He…he may have a…a spinal injury," Caleb said.

John's eyes widened as he jerked his head toward Caleb. "What!?"

"Before you showed up. A few hours ago, he…uh…he said he couldn't feel his legs," Caleb whispered.

"Oh God. No, Sammy," John said, his dark eyes filling with tears.

Bobby was shocked into silence for a few moments, but a soft moan from the young teen broke through the shock. "Look, we have to get him down. He needs a hospital. Dean too. I don't see any other way. We just have to take the chance here. Sam's not going to last much longer. I'm pretty sure he has internal bleeding and possibly broken ribs," he said as he brushed his hand over his stubbly face.

John shifted to his knees and reached out to touch Sam's face. He took a deep breath and turned to Bobby. "Okay, release his wrists. We'll lay him down as carefully as we can and hope for the best."

Bobby nodded and unlocked the shackles that held Sam in place while John and Caleb tenderly held him. Once Sam was freed, they gently laid down him down, all three worried beyond belief at his condition. John collapsed next to his baby then looked over at where Joshua kneeled next to Dean.

"God…I could lose both my boys tonight and it's all my fault," he whispered as he took Sam's hand in his.

"You aren't losing either one of them, Johnny," Caleb said as he reached over and grasped John's shoulder.

John shook Caleb's hand off and glared angrily at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Going off on Caleb would not help his boys. They needed to focus on getting them to the car and then to a hospital. He glanced up as Bobby spoke, voicing his own thoughts.

"So, how are we going to get these squirts out of here?"

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**Really not sure about this chapter. I have such a hard time with the action scenes. Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm back! I have a chapter ready for you. I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy.**

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John continued to hold Sam's lax hand while Bobby searched for anything that they could use to move Sam without hurting his back further. Caleb sat on Sam's other side, the hunter too weak to help in the search. He glanced in John's direction, but lowered his eyes when he saw the devastation written on the hardened hunters face. He had failed Sam, in turn failing John and Dean also. In his pursuit of keeping Sam's trust, he had put the boy in the most dangerous of situations. He could not even begin to blame Sam for the predicament they were in. Sam was just a boy, hurting from what he felt was his father's lack of love for him and had only been acting out of desperation for approval. Caleb felt he should have recognized the danger a bit more and not given in to Sam's pleas to include him in the hunt. He wished he had listened to Joshua when the older hunter had insisted on sending Sam away from Santa Fe. Sam may be upset, and my have never spoken to Caleb again, but he wouldn't be laying on this dirt floor, his body covered with vampire bitemarks and unable to feel his legs.

Caleb glanced up again and swallowed down the nervousness he felt. He had to say something to his friend, but he was afraid of what John would say in reply. "John…I'm so sorry I let this happen. You know if I could have, I would have kept them away from the kid," he said softly, his heart hammering in his chest.

John looked up from his baby boys face and glanced over at Caleb, his dark eyes cold and dangerous. "You had a responsibility, Caleb. When you allowed Sam to stay with you and not to tell me where you were, you accepted responsibility for his safety. You fucked that up royally!" John hissed, his hard eyes also conveying just how exhausted his was. "You gave in to a sixteen year old and now he could very well be paralyzed…he could die, Caleb! You and Joshua should have turned around and taken him away from here, but you didn't. You had no right to include my son in this hunt! You had no right to keep his whereabouts from me, no matter what he wanted. His safety is more important than anything else."

Caleb dropped his eyes again and nodded. He looked up, his blue eyes filled with misery. "I know, Johnny. I know. I'm sorry. I should have driven him out of this town as soon as he showed up, but the kid…he…he was so messed up. I just didn't know what me turning him away would do to him. You weren't here…you didn't see how bad off he was. I couldn't turn my back on him…I just couldn't."

John turned his eyes back onto his unconscious son. "You're the adult, Caleb. You should have grown a backbone and not given in! If I lose my son…my sons…I…" John started, but his words were cut off by Joshua's gruff voice.

"John, you put Sam on that bus in the first place. Where was your backbone, huh? Don't blame Caleb, or me for your own mistake. You messed up with the kid, not us. You've been fucking up for some time now and the only blame we will shoulder is for not speaking up for the kid earlier. Now, let's just stop the blame game and get these boys out of here!" Joshua hissed in anger.

John glared up at his friend, but he really couldn't argue. Sam never would have been near Santa Fe if he'd done his job as a father and fixed things with his youngest. He never would have had to fix things with Sam if he'd been more of a father to him and not ridden him so damned hard. Yep, John was never going to win Father of the Year, and as much as he wanted to shift blame for Sam's current condition from himself, he just couldn't justify that action. He was to blame, plain and simple. He dropped his eyes and shifted a bit as he squeezed Sam's hand just a little bit harder.

"You're right. This isn't helping my boys at all," John said as he glanced up at Joshua. "How's Dean doing?"

Joshua glanced back over to Dean then turned back to his friend. "He's holding his own. I tried to turn him on his side to get a good look at his back and the wood fell out…"

"What!? He could bleed out!" John cried as he began to push to his feet.

"Calm down, Johnny," Joshua said as he placed his hand on the frazzled hunter's shoulder. "I've got a pressure bandage on him. It wasn't bleeding all that bad. I think we may have really lucked out with him. My biggest concern is infection right now."

John glanced at his friend and nodded. He turned his gaze away and swept the barn, looking for Bobby. Just as he moved his eyes over the far door, Bobby stepped through, the older hunter dragging what appeared to be a long sheet of plywood. Joshua followed John's gaze and upon seeing Bobby, he hurried over to help the older man with the wood. The brought the plywood over to where John and Caleb sat next to Sam and rested it on the dirt floor.

"This is the best I could find, Johnny. I think it'll do for keeping Sam immobilized for the ride to the hospital, but we gotta hurry. The kid ain't looking too good," Bobby said, his tired eyes gazing down at the youngest hunter.

John looked down at his son, fear filling his again at the sight of Sam's lax, pale face. "Okay…we need to slide the wood under him…carefully. Then we can tie him down. Someone will need to run to the car to get straps and blankets. We'll have to slide him into Josh's truck bed," John instructed, the feeling that finally he could do something strengthening his resolve to get his boys the help they needed.

The others nodded and all the men moved into position. Bobby and Joshua took the wood in hand and waited until Caleb and John were ready to carefully lift Sam up so that the wood could be slid beneath him. Once all players were in place, John and Caleb took hold of Sam at his shoulders and just above his waist, then at the same time, lifted his upper body just enough so that the wood could fit beneath him. Bobby and Joshua slid the wood down until it Sam at about his waist. John and Caleb lowered his shoulders then moved down to gently lift his hips and the wood was slid the rest of the way beneath the unconscious boy. Sam was carefully lowered down and the men all took a breath of relief. John rested his hand on his baby's forehead and frowned at the heat that radiated from the teen. He looked up at his friends and shook his head.

"Okay, we need the straps and blankets from the Impala. We have to move fast," he said, smiling when Bobby and Joshua hurried from the barn without a word.

John closed his eyes for a moment before opening them once again and looking up at Caleb. They younger hunter looked exhausted and miserable as he gazed down at Sam, his large hand moving to take the teen's smaller one. John cleared his throat and waited for his friend to look up at him. "Hey, I'm going to go check on Dean. Keep an eye on him for me?" he asked, knowing he didn't even need to ask.

"Of course, Johnny," Caleb said with a small smile.

John nodded and pushed to his feet. He hurried to his older son and dropped down next to his side. He rested his hand on Dean's cheek, smiling as glassy, green eyes opened and stared up at him. "Hey, Dean. How ya holding up?" John queried softly.

"'m 'kay. How's S'my?" Dean replied, the young man licking his dry lips as he watched his father wearily.

John sighed, not surprised that Dean's first concern would not be for himself, but for his brother. "He's in rough shape, but he's doing okay under the circumstances. We're gonna get him and you to the hospital as soon as we can."

"Don't need a hospital. Need to see Sammy," Dean said a bit more clearly.

John sighed again as he stared down at his eldest son. "Dean, as much as I'd like to take you over to your brother, I just can't risk moving you yet. You had a piece of wood through your side. We've got the bleeding under control, but we're going to be moving you soon enough to get you to the car. You'll see Sammy soon enough," he explained, knowing full well that Dean would not be happy.

""m fine, Dad. I want to see Sammy," Dean said a bit more forcefully this time.

"Not yet, Dean. Just take it easy. You'll…"

"What aren't you telling me, Dad? What's wrong with my little brother?" Dean queried, sudden fear filling him as he recognized that things may be worse than he had thought.

"Dean, it's…"

"Don't lie to me! Tell me what's wrong with Sam!" Dean cried, the young man hissing as a sharp pain stabbed through his side.

"Okay…okay," John said as he patted Dean's arm. "Sam…uh…he told Caleb that he…he can't feel his legs."

Dean's green eyes widened as he stared up at his father. "What?" he whispered as tears sprang to his eyes. "Dad, no…not Sammy. Please…not Sammy."

John dropped his eyes to hide his own tears then lifted them a second later. "It'll be okay, Dean. Sammy'll be fine," he said as he took his son's hand.

"He can't feel his legs, Dad. That means he has some sort of spinal injury. How can he be fine?" Dean queried fearfully, the young man hissing again as pain shot through his side.

"He's a Winchester, Dean. He's…he's got to be fine. There's just no other option," John said softly.

Dean slowly shook his head as tears trickled down from his eyes to catch in his ears. "I'm afraid you can't control this one, Dad. You can't command Sam to be fine."

John gazed down at his son and sighed. "I know that, Dean, but we have to have faith that this is just a temporary thing. It may not be that serious. I have to believe that it isn't serious."

Dean nodded, but said nothing. There wasn't anything he could say. John was for sure ripping himself apart inside and he didn't need Dean to rip him anymore. The pain in his side was a steady throb, but Dean barely noticed it. He lifted his head and looked in the direction where he remembered his brother to be. He could just see the top of Sam's head and Caleb sitting next to him, the older hunter's lips moving as he spoke to the injured teen. Dean wanted to be the one to comfort Sam, but he had to be content with just being able to see that small part of the kid. Movement drew his attention away from Sam and he saw Bobby and Joshua hurry into the barn, their arms laden with straps and blankets. Bobby came toward them while Joshua moved toward Sam and Caleb. Bobby handed his items over to John, knowing that the man would want to help get his baby ready to move. John nodded then looked down at his eldest son.

"Go, Dad. Sammy needs you more than I do," Dean said. "I'll be fine."

John nodded and rose to his feet, Bobby taking his place beside Dean. John hurried back to Sam and knelt down next to him. He and Joshua rolled two blankets up and stuffed them on either side of Sam then eased the straps under the wood then up around the boy. They secured the straps as tight as they dared around Sam's body then draped the remaining blanket over his still body. The men stood and gazed down at the injured boy. John turned toward Bobby and Dean and called Bobby over. Once the older hunter was beside him, John reached down and helped Caleb to his feet.

"Caleb, I need you to sit with Dean while we take Sam to the truck. Once we have Sam secured, we'll come back for you two," John said.

Caleb nodded and moved across the barn to sit with Dean. He settled next to the young man then looked over to see John and the others lift Sam from the floor of the barn. He moved up closer to Dean's head and helped the young man raise up a bit so he could see his brother as he was carried out of the barn. Once they were alone in the barn, Caleb lowered Dean's head down then sat down on his butt. He looked down at the young man, afraid of what he thought of him. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Dean…look, I know I messed up and I'm sorry. I'd die for that kid and it just kills me that he got hurt on my watch."

Dean glanced up at his friend and smiled sadly. "It's not your fault, Caleb. I'm upset that you wouldn't tell us where you were, but I understand. Sammy needed someone he felt he could trust. Dad and I messed him up and we only have ourselves to blame for what's happened."

"I appreciate that, but I'll never forgive myself if that kid doesn't recover. It'll be like losing my little brother all over again, you know? I…I just want you to know how sorry I am," Caleb said softly.

"I know, Caleb. I just…I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't make it. He has to make it…I'll die without him. Caleb, what am I going to do if he…if he dies?" Dean said, the young man breaking into sobs when he could no longer keep his fear inside.

Caleb took Dean's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. He couldn't keep his own tears at bay, not while watching Dean fall apart before him. He'd never seen Dean cry before and it tore him up inside to see it now. "Sammy's tough, Dean. He's not going to leave you. I…I need to tell you something, Ace," Caleb said.

Dean looked up at him, his sobs still racking his body. He took several deep breaths to gain control of his emotions then nodded at his friend. Caleb nodded back and swallowed deeply.

"Uh…before you guys got here, Sam…he…he wanted to give up…"

"What!?" Dean cried fearfully.

Caleb smiled down at Dean then continued. "He was in so much pain, Dean. He was hurting and I could tell he was at the end of his endurance, but…one mention of your name and how much you'd be hurt if he gave up? That was all it took, Ace. I was so proud of the squirt in that moment. He loves you so much and he knows that if he doesn't fight as hard as he can, that he'll hurt you. I know that you'd die for him in a heartbeat, but I hope you know that he'd do the same for you too."

Dean bit nervously at his lower lip as he stared up at his friend. "I know he would, Caleb. But, is he strong enough to fight this? He looked so pale. God, Caleb. The first time I looked at him, he looked dead."

"He'll be fine. I know it doesn't look good, but we gotta believe he'll pull through," Caleb said, hoping he was right because none of them would ever be the same if Sam died.

Dean gazed up at his friend. "Thanks, Caleb," he said softly before squeezing his eyes shut against another stab of pain.

"Dean, you okay?" Caleb asked, his eyes narrowed in concern.

"I'm fine. Just hurts a bit," Dean answered.

"Just hold on. We'll be getting you help shortly," Caleb said in reply.

Dean nodded and opened his eyes. He said nothing, just stared up at the ceiling of the barn. A few moments later, Bobby and John entered the barn and hurried to where Dean and Caleb were. John kneeled down next to his son and ran a hand through his cropped hair. "You ready to move, Dean?" he asked softly.

"'m ready. Just get Sammy some help. Don't worry about me," Dean whispered.

"Too late for that, son. Let's get you up then. It's gonna hurt," John said.

"It's okay. Let's just go."

"Okay, Bobby, you take that side and I'll get this side. Caleb, just follow behind," John instructed.

Soon, they had Dean up from the dirt floor, the young man cradled between the two oldest hunters, Caleb trailing behind, his eyes drifting over the barn and the bodies that littered the floor. The evidence of the fight was all over the place and Caleb was surprised that Dean's was the only real injury any of the hunters had suffered in the battle. Caleb recalled, as he followed behind the others, the ferocity of the vampires, but then their surprise at the fury aimed their way. They had not counted on how ferocious the hunters would be when protecting their own. The fight had taken close to fifteen minutes, the vampires never really standing a chance against the enraged hunters. They had been slaughtered like they were nothing. Yes, they had gotten in a few good licks and one had nearly gotten to Sam, but John had been there and had taken its head off in one swipe. Caleb remembered the man picking up the head and angrily throwing it across the room, his body tense as he stood in front of his youngest son, daring any of the other vampires to try and get to him.

Caleb shook his head against the memories. He hurried to catch up to the others and soon they were at the vehicles. They began to take Dean to the cab of the truck, but he protested, saying he wanted to be with Sam.

"Dean, it'll be more comfortable and safe for you in the truck. Caleb can sit with Sam," John started, but Dean would hear nothing of it.

"I want to ride back with Sammy. If he rides in the back, I ride in the back," he said defiantly.

John sighed then nodded at Bobby. They went to the back of the pickup and carefully hoisted Dean up into the bed. John climbed up and helped Dean move back until he was leaning against the cab. Dean scooted as close to Sam as possible, his hand immediately moving to card through his brother's sweat soaked hair. A blanket was draped over him as he watched Caleb climb up and sit down on the other side of Sam. Caleb was covered too then another blanket was draped over Sam. John jumped down from the bed of the truck, dug in his pocket and threw his keys to Joshua.

"We'll take care of things here, then we'll meet you at the hospital. Take care of our boys," Bobby said, his eyes moving to the three hunters huddled in the bed of the truck.

"I will. Thanks for taking care of the clean up. I'll come up with something to tell the authorities and fill you in when you get to the hospital," John said before moving to climb into the pickup.

Waves were given and John started the truck up and pulled away. He reached behind him and slid the window open so he could talk to Dean and Caleb. He wanted to be kept up on Sam's condition, as well as Dean's. John drove as quickly and as carefully as he could and a half hour after leaving the barn, he was pulling into the parking area at the Saint Vincent Regional Medical Center emergency room. He pulled right up to the doors, put the truck in park then exited the truck and rushed into the ER. Within moments, medical personnel flooded out of the doors and surrounded the back of the pickup. They decided that it would be easiest to get Dean out first, but the young man did not want to leave his brother.

"Dean, they can't help Sam until they have you out. You want them to help your brother don't you?" John asked, hating to hit below the belt, but needing Dean to understand that in order to help Sam, he had to let him go for now.

Dean looked down at his brother, his fingers once more carding through his chocolate hair. His eyes filled with tears as he watched the young teens chest rise and fall beneath the blankets. "Hey, Sammy. They're going to take you away for awhile, but I promise I'll see you soon. I love you little brother and I'll be right here when you wake up," he whispered.

Dean looked up and nodded, his eyes never leaving his brother as he was carefully removed from the truck. He was placed on a gurney, but requested to stay beside the truck until Sam was safely out and on his own gurney. It took some doing, but eventually Sam was removed from the plywood and secured to a regular backboard then he was taken from the bed of the pickup and placed on a waiting gurney. Both brothers were rushed inside, followed closely by John and Caleb. Caleb refused medical treatment for his own injuries and followed John to the waiting area to begin the long wait for word on the Winchester brothers. John filled out the paperwork, handed it in and once again took a seat next to Caleb. He knew it was only a matter of time before the authorities showed up so he and Caleb moved to a more secluded part of the waiting room and hashed out a story that they thought would work to explain the boys injuries. It wasn't long after they finished that the police showed up, having been alerted by the hospital that a vicious assault had taken place and a minor was involved.

John was escorted to one room, while Caleb was escorted to another, John leaving instructions at reception to come get him if there was any news concerning either of his sons. A half an hour later, John emerged from the room, hopeful, but still a bit wary of whether the detective had believed him. He hoped that Caleb had pulled his statement off. There was no threat of losing Dean with him being an adult, but Sam could be taken away if they didn't believe the story. John shook hands with the detective and walked to the reception desk to inquire about his boys. He had just finished being told that there was no word when he saw Caleb come out of the room he had been taken to. The detective walked out and the hunters made their way to each other. They took a seat, but neither man said a word. Ten minutes later, the ER doors swung open and a woman dressed in a white lab coat walked out and moved straight for the now standing hunters.

"Mr. Tilton?" the doctor asked as she approached the men.

"That's me," John said anxiously.

"Let's take a seat, shall we?" the doctor suggested.

Once they were seated, John gazed at the doctor, his dark eyes filled with fear.

"Mr. Tilton, I'm Dr. Gentry. I have been taking care of your son, Dean. I know the wait has been hard, but I do have good news for you. Dean is going to be just fine. We are going to need to take him to surgery to repair the wound in his side, but there were no organs damaged. He doesn't have any infection, but we're going to put him on a heavy duty antibiotic to make sure he doesn't get one. He did lose quite a bit of blood, but the pressure bandage helped with that a great deal. If you have any questions, now would be the time to ask them. I need to get scrubbed up for the surgery," the doctor explained.

John dropped his head and took a deep breath before lifting his head up again. "Thank you so much, doctor. Do…do you know anything about the condition of my other son?" he asked fearfully.

Dr. Gentry shook her head and smiled apologetically at John. "I'm sorry, I don't know. I do know that you other son has the best people working on him. He's in the best hands you could possibly ask for him to be in. Now, I really need to go get ready for surgery. Is there any other questions?"

"No, just take care of my son. Thank you," John said.

Dr. Gentry smiled as she stood. She shook John's hand then turned and walked away. John glanced at Caleb then collapsed back into his chair, the man awaiting news on his other son. It would be hours before he would get that news, but he didn't know that.

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John sat at Dean's bedside, his feet propped up on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his stomach. His dark eyes rested on Dean's lax face, watching as the young man slept. Caleb, Bobby and Joshua were in seats of their own scattered around the room, all three men sleeping lightly. Suddenly, the door opened and a white haired man stepped quietly into the room. He looked tired, but he smiled kindly as John removed his feet from the bed and stood.

"Mr. Tilton? I'm Dr. Henderson. I'm here about your son, Sam," the doctor said.

John swallowed as he moved around the bed. The other hunters came awake at the doctor's entrance and were all standing too. "How is my boy, doctor?" John asked, scared beyond belief at what the man had to say.

"I'm afraid the news isn't very good," the doctor said, a sympathetic look on his face.

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**Okay, give it to me! I'm evil, I know. I deserve to be raked over the coals. More to come.**

**Cindy**


	21. Chapter 21

**Okay, I've made you wait long enough. Here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy.**

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"_I'm afraid the news isn't very good."_

John's knees went weak at the doctor's words and if it weren't for Bobby standing close and reaching out to grasp his arm, the man most certainly would have hit the floor. Dr. Henderson reached out to help steady John, but the hunter brushed his hand away, took a deep breath and looked the doctor in the eye.

"What's wrong with my son?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"Maybe we should step out into the hall where we can have some privacy?" the doctor suggested.

John shook his head as he glanced at his friends then over his shoulder at his still sleeping son. "Whatever you need to say, you can say it here," he said.

"Fine. Let's take a seat then," Dr. Henderson said.

The men took their seats and waited expectantly for the doctor to speak. Dr. Henderson cleared his throat and glanced at each man. "First, let me tell you that Sam is stabilized…for now. We had a bit of trouble during his surgery. He had lost so much blood. Frankly, I'm amazed that he's still alive," the doctor said, regretting his chosen words when all of the color drained from John's face.

John closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He felt a warm hand on his arm and it helped to anchor him. He opened his eyes and looked at the doctor. "I'm okay. Just, tell me about my son."

The doctor nodded then cleared his throat again. "As I said, Sam had lost a lot of blood…his abdomen was full of blood from a tear in his liver. Now, this wasn't a new injury. The beating he took opened the tear up more, but he has been slowly bleeding internally for several days…"

"Oh God…he's been bleeding since the wolf," John whispered, his face paling even further, as impossible as that seemed. John turned to Bobby, his dark eyes blurred by tears. "He's been bleeding since the wolf, Bobby."

Bobby's grip on John's arm tightened, his heart breaking at the devastation in John's eyes. "You didn't know, Johnny," he said softly.

"I didn't take him to the hospital…thought I could handle it myself. My baby has been bleeding all this time and I just let it happen," John said, his heart filling with self loathing.

"Mr. Tilton…I'm not sure what went down before, but you would have had no way of knowing that the wolf attack would injure your son's liver…" the doctor started.

"I would have if I had taken him to the hospital like any good father would have! I let him lay, in pain, in that motel room while he was slowly bleeding to death!"

Dr. Henderson shook his head as he gazed at the distraught father. "Yes, you should have taken him to the hospital, but what you're doing now isn't helping him. He needs you to be strong. He has a long road ahead of him and you need to keep yourself together."

John licked his dry lips and glanced up at the doctor. He reined in his emotions and nodded. "You're right. Sammy needs me. You said you had some trouble? What do you mean by that?"

Dr. Henderson took a deep breath and continued with his description of Sam's injuries. "So, due to the blood loss, Sam was very weak and his heart was working extremely hard to get enough oxygen to his body. I'm afraid his heart gave out on the operating table. We were able to get it beating again, but he was down for over four minutes. I'm hopeful that he won't suffer any serious brain damage due to the intubation, but we can't be certain until he wakes up," the doctor said, his heart going out to these men as they digested what they had been told.

John was speechless as he stared at the doctor. Sam had died on the operating table and this man had brought him back. He scrubbed a shaky hand over his face, not trusting himself to be able to speak at the moment. Finally, knowing there had to be more, he asked the doctor to continue. Dr. Henderson nodded then began to speak again.

"Sam had five cracked ribs on his left side. We've stabilized them, though they'll cause him some pain, but we can ease that with pain relievers. The bitemarks were…disturbing at best. We've treated the wounds and have him on a broad spectrum antibiotic to keep infection at bay. Now, we come to the most worrisome of Sam's injuries." Dr. Henderson paused and gauged the men's emotional state before continuing.

"Just…tell us, doctor. His legs…he said he couldn't feel his legs," Caleb said, the guilt of his contribution to Sam's condition eating him up inside.

Dr. Henderson sighed, never comfortable with relaying such devastating news. "Yes. We did a scan of Sam before we took him to recovery. Now, the good news is, we did not see any fractured vertebrae, nor any vertebrae that were shifted. This gives us some hope that Sam will be able to regain feeling in his legs, to some extent. However, there is swelling of his spine in the lower region. He has suffered an injury to his Sacral nerves which has caused the swelling. We've started him on dexamethasone to help reduce the swelling. Once the swelling begins to go down, we're hoping that he will begin to regain feeling. This is not a certainty though. The swelling could cause permanent damage. The odds are not in his favor of coming back one hundred percent and it's a possibility that he could spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair…"

"Stop…just, stop for now. I think I've heard enough," John pleaded, his head and heart unable to hear anymore. All he could picture in his mind was Sam in a wheelchair and it made his blood run cold in his veins.

"Mr. Tilton, I'm so sorry. We are going to do everything in our power to make sure that doesn't happen. The fact that Sam survived long enough to even get here is a miracle in itself. It tells me that he's a fighter. That's what we need for him to be. We also need for him to have the support of his family. He can't do this alone. No matter what, Sam has a long, hard road ahead of him and he's going to need all of the help he can get," Dr. Henderson explained.

John looked up and squared his shoulders. He would not fail Sam again. He had put his baby boy here and he would damn well make sure that he brought him out, one hundred percent. "He'll get all of the love and support that he needs. You'll be sick of us, I can tell you that right now, doctor. Thank you so much for everything you've done for my son."

Dr. Henderson stood and reached out his hand. The others stood and once the handshakes were done, the doctor turned and left the men to their thoughts. Caleb sat heavily down onto this chair and rested his face in his hands, his elbows digging into his knees as he rocked slightly back and forth. John looked down at the man and frowned.

"Caleb, can I talk to you in the hall?" John said, his voice low and tired sounding.

Caleb looked up and nodded. Joshua eyed both of his friends as he moved slightly in front of the younger man. "Johnny, I thought we said what needed to be said at the barn. This is hardly the place to…" he started, but was silenced by John's raised hand.

"I just want to talk to him, Josh. You and Bobby stay with Dean," John said as he moved out of the room.

Caleb stood, took a deep breath and followed. Once he was in the hall he faced John, ready to take the licks he felt he deserved. He was not prepared for what John had to say.

"Caleb, I…I owe you an apology," John started, his dark eyes falling to the floor.

"What? No, Johnny, you were right…"

"No, I wasn't. I am to blame for all of this. My boys are lying in this hospital because of me. You only did what you thought Sam needed you to do. You didn't know that any of this would happen. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you at the barn. I was just so…so fucking scared and I took it out on you. You're a good friend and I know you'd give your life for Sam."

Caleb stared at his friend as he reached out a hand and gripped John's shoulder. "I appreciate that, John, but I still blame myself…at least for the part I played. How about we both forgive ourselves so that we can get the squirt up and out of this place. Us feeling sorry for ourselves isn't gonna help him one little bit," Caleb said with a tired smile.

John nodded and looked at the door that separated him from his eldest son. "First, we have to get that one in there up and about. Sam's going to need him most of all. Those two and the bond they have. It makes me envious sometimes, but then I think how lucky I am to know that they will always have each others backs, no matter what."

"You've done good with them, Johnny. You've screwed up…a lot…but, you've done good. You couldn't ask for two better sons," Caleb said.

"You're right about that. I really am lucky. I…I just hope I can convince Sammy that I really do love him. I'm afraid I may have permanently damaged my relationship with him, Caleb…"

"Nah…this is Sammy we're talking about here. He'll come around, but you have to do your part. You have to do the work on this one."

"Yeah. I have a lot to make up for, I just hope I can figure out how."

"Just be there for the half pint. All he wants is to know that you love and respect him. He needs your approval, Johnny. That's why he's done the crazy things he's done. Going after those monsters…it was all to get you to see that he can be the son he thinks you want him to be. You have to let him know that he can just be Sam."

John eyed his friend for a long moment then nodded his head. He slipped past Caleb and back into the room, his friend following closely behind. John went around the bed and took up his seat next to Dean's bedside once again. He had just sat down when he heard a weak voice whisper from the bed. He stood and leaned over his son, taking his cool hand and squeezing gently.

"What did you say, Dean?" he queried softly.

Dean pried his lids open and stared up into this father's face. "How's Sammy?" he whispered again, his voice a low croak.

Bobby handed John a cup of chipped ice and once John had spooned a few pieces into Dean's mouth, the young man spoke again. "I need to see Sammy, Dad."

"Sam's in recovery right now. None of us can see him for awhile. I promise, Dean, that as soon as we can get you up, we'll take you to your brother, but right now, you need to rest so you can get your strength back…"

"I'll get my strength back once I can see Sam."

"Like I said, none of us can see him yet. We just have to wait until he's moved to his own room."

"Dad…how bad is he? I heard the doctor in here, but everything was jumbled."

John sighed, not sure of how much to tell Dean. He decided that honest was the only way to go. He took a deep breath and began to speak. "He's in rough shape, but he's tough. He, uh…he had internal bleeding from a tear in his liver…"

"Those bastards beat him so badly they tore his liver? Son of a bitch!" Dean spat.

"No, Dean. The beating worsened the tear, but…" John started, his voice tapering off as he thought about his baby bleeding for days without any of them knowing.

"But what, Dad?"

"He had been bleeding for days. The tear was from the wolf attack, not the vampires," John replied as he dropped his eyes to his lap.

"What? No, Dad…don't tell me that," Dean whispered, the young man paling as his father's words pierced his heart like a sword.

"I thought I could handle his injuries myself. I never thought he could have internal injuries. I'm so sorry, Dean…I don't know what to say other than that," John said softly, his large hand coming up to rub comfortingly over Dean's arm.

"Dad? Is Sammy gonna…is he…is he gonna die?" Dean asked, his voice so low that John could barely hear it.

"No. He's going to come through this. He won't leave us, Dean…he won't leave you," John said in reply.

"Are you sure? He wanted to get away from us…he tried to kill himself, Dad. Why would he fight to stay with us? Don't you think that maybe this sudden need of his to run into these hunts is maybe his way of finishing the job he couldn't do by his own hand? Dad, I'm so scared. I need my little brother…I can't…I…if he dies…I don't know what I'll do," Dean said, his green eyes pleading with his father to make it all right.

"Dean," John started, his voice cracking as he was overcome with emotion. If Sam didn't make it, he would lose both sons, of that he was sure. He couldn't let that happen. "Sam isn't going to die. He has the best doctors taking care of him. He has his family to support him. He'll be fine."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. He rolled his head away for a moment then turned back to his father. He opened his eyes and John instantly knew what he was going to ask. "Dad…what about his legs? You said that he couldn't feel his legs. Please tell me he's not paralyzed. Please."

John dropped his eyes, the man himself not dealing well with Sam's prognosis and now he had to try to seem optimistic so as not to upset Dean further. He looked up, his heart pounding as he stared into his son's expectant eyes. "His back isn't broken, so that's very good news. He has swelling in his spine, but they are giving him medications to bring that swelling down. The doctor says that once the swelling goes down, Sam should regain the feeling in his legs."

"Should…not will. Sam could never walk again…he could be paralyzed for life. He won't make it if that happens, Dad. It'll kill him," Dean said softly.

"He won't be paralyzed. He'll be up and about in no time…you'll see," John replied, praying that he was right.

"I hope so, Dad. God, I hope you're right."

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John sat next to Dean's bed where he had remained since the young man had awakened then fallen back off to sleep after they had talked about Sam. The others were once again snoozing in their uncomfortable chairs, which basically left John alone with his thoughts. He thought of all of ways he had screwed up his son's lives. He thought of life with Sam confined to a wheelchair. He shook that thought right out of his head, but it was right there to push it's way back in again. The door opening to the room saved him from those horrible images and he looked up to see Sam's doctor enter. He stood, as did the others, all of the men hoping that they could finally see the youngest hunter.

"Mr. Tilton, I…" Dr. Henderson started.

"Please, call me John," John said quietly, not wanting to wake his eldest son.

"John…Sam has been moved to the ICU, but there's a problem…"

"What!? What's wrong with my boy?" John cried fearfully.

"No…no, I'm sorry to have scared you. Sam is doing well, considering. Uh…the problem lies with…uh…"

"Just spit it out, doc," Caleb said impatiently.

"Apparently, the police are having a hard time with the story you told them about Sam's injuries. They've called in CPS to make sure that Sam isn't being abused…by you…"

"Are they fucking crazy!? John would never hurt his boy! Son of a bitch!" Caleb cried furiously.

"Caleb, shhh…you'll wake Dean," Bobby said, the older man's eyes moving to John's shocked face as the hunter stared at the doctor.

"They think I'm the one who hurt Sammy? Is CPS here right now?" John hissed, his dark eyes flashing with anger.

"Yes. They're waiting for you right now," Dr. Henderson said. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to them."

"Caleb, can you stay with Dean?" John asked as he turned to his friend.

"Hell no! I want to speak to these jerks, Johnny!" Caleb snapped.

"And that is why I need you to stay with Dean. I don't need you jumping all over the men in suits, Caleb. Just…stay here…please," John said.

Caleb muttered something under his breath then sat down with a huff. "Fine, but if you need backup, you know where I am," he shot.

"Thanks," John said before turning and rushing out the door after the doctor, the others right on his tail.

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"What the hell do you mean I can't see my son!?" John hollered as he towered over the balding man in the rumpled brown suit.

"Mr. Tilton, as I said, until I can determine that you are not the cause of any of your son's injuries, I can't let you near him. It's my job to make sure that no more harm comes to Sam and I take my job very seriously," the man said.

John brushed his hand through his hair and huffed in frustration. Bobby and Joshua stood nearby, both holding their tongues, but silently giving their friend their support. John looked at the man again and took a deep breath. "Mr. Gallagher, I've told you and the police how Sam got those injuries. I have never harmed my son. I would never raise a hand to him…ever! I love my son very much and would do anything to protect him. He was attacked by a wolf and this latest thing. I wasn't even here! He and his uncle were abducted by…by…"

"Uh…by a cult of vampire wannabes, according to you and the other man…um, Caleb Reaves," Mr. Gallagher said as he eyed John over the top of his glasses.

"Yes. They took my son and his uncle. They told them they were vampires. They had their teeth filed or something. They hurt my son…they beat him and bit him and now he could be paralyzed for the rest of his life! I believe there have been other young people around here who have disappeared, only to show up days later, dead and covered with bitemarks! Isn't that true? It seems to me that my son is the latest victim and only survived because we were looking for him and knew that he and Caleb were going to check out that old barn!" John shouted, the man at the end of his patience.

Mr. Gallagher was momentarily silenced by John's outburst. It was true. There had been other teenagers who had shown up dead, their bodies covered with bites. Human bites. Their bodies had been drained of blood and the police had no leads. Mr. Gallagher looked up at the man before him. He still had a job to do, and he would do it until the police could verify the statements John had made regarding the animal attacks in Oregon and Wyoming.

"Mr. Tilton, while I agree that you are not responsible for Sam's current injuries, I can't say that about his others. There are old scars and breaks. I am here to ensure that that boy is safe and that no more harm comes to him…"

"That's what we're here for…to protect him. Look, I know you don't know us, but John loves his boys more than anything. He'd never hurt either one of them," Bobby said, the man unable to hold his tongue any longer.

"I hope you're right, sir…I truly do, but until I am confident that Sam isn't in any danger from his father, Mr. Tilton will not be allowed near him," Mr. Gallagher said.

"Tell me, what do you think is going to happen when Sam wakes up and there's nobody there? He's going to freak out," John said.

"I'll allow Mr. Singer to sit with Sam. I understand that Sam is going to need someone he knows near him. That's the best I can do. Mr. Tilton, please don't try to get into the room. I have made sure that there is a security guard at his door. If you try to get in, you will be arrested," Mr. Gallagher said.

John bit back the remark he wanted to say and nodded. "Fine. I'll stay out, but I want my eldest son to be able to see him once he's able to get up…"

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that…"

"Look, Dean is the one that Sam needs the most. If Sam can't see Dean, he'll lose it…and so will Dean," John said.

"Fine, I'll consider it. Now, I need to check in with the police department. I hope we can get this all cleared up soon."

"Yeah. I do to."

Once the CPS officer had left, John pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. He glanced at Bobby and Joshua as he waited for the call to be answered. A soft click indicated that the phone had been picked up and John smiled slightly as the voice on the other end said hello.

"Jim, this is John. I need you in Sante Fe as soon as possible. It's Sam, Jim. They think I'm hurting Sam," he said as he collapsed into a chair, his emotions finally getting the best of him as he began to sob into the phone.

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Hope that was worth the wait. Please let me know.

Cindy


	22. Chapter 22

**Here is the next chapter folks. I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

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John paced the hall outside of Sam's ICU room, his eyes flitting from the curtained window of the room to the door down the hall where Pastor Jim Murphy was currently in talks with CPS agents Lee Gallagher and Angela Sinnott. John had briefly met Ms. Sinnott the day before when he had first been brought to see the agents, but she had been called away and had missed the fireworks that had erupted when John had been told he would not be allowed near his youngest son until his story could be confirmed. The police had reported back that the old born where Sam and Caleb had been held had mysteriously burned to the ground, but had also said they had found evidence around the burned out building that indicated that the murdered teenagers that had been found around the county had also been held there. The police deduced that the vampire cultists had returned to the scene and burned the barn down to cover any evidence then had most likely fled the state. They had put out an APB based upon the hunters descriptions, but they had no way of knowing the 'cultists' would never be found.

So, according to the local authorities, John and Caleb's stories had been believable and no charges would be filed against any of the hunters. That had not been enough for CPS agent Gallagher though. There was after all the matter of Sam's older injuries. Besides, the agent had informed John that he wanted to speak to Sam himself before he would consider allowing the hunter in the room with him. That's when Pastor Jim had shown up and whisked the two CPS agents to the room down the hall where the three had been for the past hour. John glanced down the hall again, swore under his breath, then began his pacing once more. Caleb, who had left Dean in Joshua's capable hands, watched his friend, sympathizing with the man. He wanted nothing more than to get into Sam's room to see how the kid was doing, so he could only imagine how John felt. They both envied Bobby, who at the moment was behind the closed door, watching over their youngest family member in the absence of the boy's father and brother.

John stopped and glared down the hall again. "Son of a bitch! What the hell is taking so long!?" he hissed furiously.

Caleb stepped up to his friend and grasped his arm. "Johnny, take it easy. You aren't going to help your case if you go all Marine on the poor little CPS agents. If anyone can get you in to see the squirt, Jim can. It's only a matter of time before they have to let you in," the younger hunter said.

John looked at his friend and took a deep breath. "It should be me in there, Caleb. If Sammy wakes up and neither Dean nor I are there, he's going to think we abandoned him. I mean, I know he was out of it in that barn, but he knew we were there. I have to see him…I have so much to make up for," the man cried, his dark eyes flashing with more than just anger.

"You'll get to see him, Johnny. He's not going to wake up for quite a while yet. The doctor said they have him all doped up. Even if he does wake up, Bobby'll tell him what's going on," Caleb explained.

"It won't matter. I was so…I treated him so badly, Caleb. I don't know how much he told you, but I…I don't know if I'll ever have my baby back. I don't know if he'll ever be able to look at me again and see someone that he loves. I know I don't deserve his love and trust, but god…I want it so badly. I need it," John said as he turned to gaze at the covered window, the man in despair that he was not even allowed to see his son through the pane of glass.

The guard that had been appointed to make sure nobody but Bobby and hospital personnel entered the room gazed warily at the two men before turning his head to look the other way down the hall. Security Officer Holstrum didn't understand all that was going on, but he did know that there was a kid behind the closed door he guarded who had been terribly beaten, bitten and generally abused. The boy had nearly died and still wasn't out of the woods and the officer had been told that there was a possibility that the father could have caused some of his injuries. Officer Holstrum hated child abusers with a passion so until he was told otherwise, the tall, dark haired man who paced the hall was guilty and would not get anywhere near the kid. Not on his watch.

All three men, the two hunters and the security officer, looked down the hall toward the closed off room when the door opened and CPS agents Gallagher and Sinnott exited the room, followed closely by Pastor Jim. John rushed toward the group with Caleb right on his heels. The three stopped as John and Caleb neared. Agent Gallagher dropped his eyes for a moment then looked up into expectant dark eyes.

"Mr. Tilton, based upon the information that we have received from the Santa Fe police department and from Pastor Murphy, it has been determined that you are not responsible for any of the injuries to your son, Sam. As much as I would rather speak with the boy first, I realize that he may not awaken for some time. I have been made fully aware that if you aren't in the room when Sam wakes up, it will be very detrimental to the boy's recovery," agent Gallagher said.

John was speechless for a moment. This was what he had hoped for, but now that he was hearing the words, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. All of the anguish and the stress he'd been under and just like that he was going to get to see his baby boy. He stared at the agent then glanced at the other one before returning his eyes to Gallagher.

"So, I can see Sammy? Right now?" John asked, not sure if this was some cruel joke or if he really could see his son.

"Yes, Mr. Tilton, you can see Sam," the female agent said.

John smiled softly and nodded his head. "Thank you so much. I…just…thank you," John said before turning and rushing toward Sam's room.

John stopped at Sam's door and glanced over at Caleb before he reached out and grabbed the handle. He pushed into the room and looked toward the bed, the man nearly losing it when he saw the shape that his baby was in. Bobby looked up at John, the older man smiling tiredly, happy to see his friend, but heart breaking at the look on the man's face. "Johnny…come sit. He's doing okay," the man said as he stood from the chair and motioned John over.

John nodded, but his eyes never left Sam's pale, bruised face and the tube that protruded from his mouth. "Why is he on a vent?" John whispered as he moved up to the side of the bed and brushed his fingers through his baby's messy hair.

"The doctor said it's because of his heart stopping on the operating table. He can breathe on his own, but he was having difficulty so they decided to give his body as much help as possible these first few days," Bobby explained quietly.

John looked at his friend and nodded, his fingers continuing to card absently through Sam's hair. "Jim came through for me, Bobby. I owe you all so much…"

"You don't owe us nothin', Johnny. You're family…this is what family does," Bobby interrupted.

John smiled then looked back down at Sam. He looked so small and so much younger than he truly was. His face was nearly devoid of color, save for the bruises and dark smudges under his eyes and John had to take a deep breath to keep from weeping. Sam was here, in this condition because of him. He had nearly lost him, still could, and he had no one to blame but himself. He knew he didn't deserve Sam's forgiveness, but he was going to do everything he could to earn it anyway. John looked up when Bobby cleared his throat, his dark eyes conveying to the older man how much these past days had taken out of the man.

"Uh…I'm going to give you some time with him. I'll just go down and check on Dean, if you don't need me for anything," Bobby said.

"No…I've got what I need now. I appreciate you checking on Dean. He should be waking soon and he's going to want to know what's going on," John replied.

"Will do. I'll sit with him for a bit before going down to get some grub."

"Make sure Joshua and Caleb eat too. They've both been taking turns with Dean and I don't think either one has eaten for…well, for as long as you haven't…"

"And what about you, Johnny? You haven't eaten or slept. You need to take care of yourself if you're going to be here for your boys," Bobby lectured.

"I'll just sit with Sammy for a bit then I'll get some sleep."

"You're gonna sleep in the chair aren't you?"

"I can't leave him now that I've gotten in here. I need to be here when he wakes up, Bobby. I've ignored the kid's needs for too long, but no more," John said with a tired sigh. "My boy needs to know that he comes first. He and Dean. My comfort is of no importance."

"Yeah, well, I highly doubt that Sam would want you putting your own health at risk, no matter how much you hurt him. That kid loves you so much, despite everything. I'll bring you some food from the cafeteria in a while then you can sleep."

"Thanks, Bobby," John said, his eyes moving back down to Sam's face.

Bobby nodded, turned and left the room. Once John was alone with his son, he allowed the wall to fall and collapsed down into the chair that Bobby had vacated. He scooted it as close to the bed as he could then lowered the railing on that side of the bed so he could get closer to Sam. He took Sam's hand and lifted it from the mattress then leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bed. He brought the limp hand to his lips and gently kissed the long fingers. He brought the cool hand to his cheek and closed his eyes as he just sat and listened to the sound of the ventilator breathing for his son. A few moments later he opened his eyes and gazed up at Sam's face. The boy didn't look like he was even alive and the ventilator did nothing to ease John's nervousness. He reached one hand out and placed it on Sam's chest, just over the boy's heart. He felt the steady thump of Sam's heartbeat and finally let himself believe that his baby was with him. He lifted his hand from Sam's chest and moved it up to tenderly caress one pale cheek, being careful of the vent tube that was helping his boy breathe.

"God, Sammy…I've really done it this time. I should have taken you to the hospital after the wolf attack. You've been bleeding all this time and I had no clue. I thought I could handle it, baby, but I was wrong. I've been wrong about so many things," John whispered, hoping that somehow, Sam could hear his voice. "You have to fight, Sam. You have to come back to us. Dean and I…we…we can't make it without you, kiddo. If you don't fight for me…please…fight for Dean.

John continued to caress Sam's cheek, his rough thumb brushing softly over the cheekbone, Sam's lashes tickling the tip as it passed over them. Finally, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He soon fell into a deep slumber, his hand never letting go of his son's smaller one. He didn't hear when the door opened, didn't see when Caleb crept quietly into the room and up to the bed. The younger hunter watched both father and son and it was all he could do to keep from crying when he saw the vent tube in Sam's mouth. Regardless of what John had said, he still felt responsible for the kid's current condition. He had failed Sam and his family in the worst possible way. If Sam didn't pull through, his health and legs intact, Caleb would never forgive himself. He'd never be able to look any of the Winchesters in the eye again. Caleb tentatively reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from Sam's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sammy…so very sorry," Caleb said dejectedly before turning and silently leaving the room.

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Joshua stood near the window of Dean's room, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the young man sleep. He hadn't heard anything for some time on what was going on with John and Sam and hoped that someone would come fill him in soon. He wouldn't leave Dean, but he was growing antsy about what could be happening. He paced away from the window and up to the bed, the tall man peering down at his sleeping friend. He hoped that Jim could talk some sense into the CPS agents because if Dean was kept from this brother, well, there was no telling what would happen. Those boys needed each other like they needed oxygen. Joshua knew without a doubt that it would be the end of Sam if he wasn't allowed to have his brother with him, and Dean? Well, Dean would follow close after his brother and the thought of losing the Winchester brothers brought a pain to Joshua's heart that nothing else could ever inflict. Those boys had stolen his heart the first time he'd met them way back when Dean was still kept in the dark about things that go bump in the night and Sam was barely out of diapers. These were his boys and he could not lose them. Life would never be the same for any of the small band of hunters if these two were lost. Joshua was brought out of his thoughts when the door to the room opened and Bobby walked in, the older man shutting the door quietly behind him.

"How's he doing, Josh?" Bobby queried.

"He's sleeping now. Was awake a bit ago, but he didn't stay that way for long. Asked about Sam then drifted right back off," Joshua answered, his deep brown eyes staring intently at the older hunter. "How's Sammy?"

"Hasn't moved a muscle. Not even a twitch. They've got him pretty drugged up though, but it's hard to see him like that," Bobby answered, his gaze moving to the sleeping young man on the bed.

Joshua nodded, the words not exactly what he wanted to hear, but at least Sam was alive and he was a fighter so he would hold onto that for now. "Where's John? Still trying to get in to see his boy?"

"Actually, Jim came through big time. John's in with Sam right now. I told him I'd come check on Dean before I went for something to eat. I need to bring the stubborn ass something before he keels over," Bobby answered.

"That's great. I knew Jim would be able to change those suits minds. Dean'll be wanting to go down there as soon as he wakes up," Joshua said.

"Ain't that the truth," Bobby said as he looked over at Joshua. "You want me to sit with him so you can go grab a bite?"

"Nah…cute little red headed nurse brought me a plate a bit ago. I think she likes me," Joshua said with a grin.

"Big galute like you? Keep dreaming, buddy," Bobby said with a chuckle.

"I'm telling you, she wants me, Bobby."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. If you're okay with sitting here for a bit more, I'm gonna go fill my gut then take something to John. I gotta try to get Caleb to eat and sleep too. He's still feeling guilty and refuses to leave until Sammy wakes up."

Joshua shook his head as he moved back to the window. "Guilt ain't gonna fix nothing," he muttered, his eyes moving back to Dean.

"Yeah, well try telling John and Caleb that. This one too," Bobby said.

Joshua shook his head again, the big man once again crossing his arms over his chest. He was just about to speak again when Dean chose that moment to open his eyes. A low moan had both hunters moving to his bedside.

"Hey, Dean…how you feeling, kid?" Joshua asked as he stared down at the young man.

"Like I had a frickin' piece of wood through my gut…how you feelin' old man?" Dean groaned, the young man trying to push himself up on the mattress.

"Yeah, he's okay," Bobby said with a chuckle.

Dean looked up at the two older men then swept his gaze over the room. "Where's Dad?" he asked.

"He's with Sam," Joshua said.

Dean's eyes widened at the hunter's words. "They let Dad in? How?"

"Jim worked his mojo and that's all she wrote," Bobby said in reply.

Dean tried to push up again, the news he'd just heard giving him newfound strength. Bobby reached for the button on the rail of the bed and raised the head up. Once the head was raised, Dean eased his legs over the edge of the bed and, grabbing his side, he sat up, his free hand gripping the edge of the bed. He felt hands grab his shoulders and he looked up into Joshua's dark eyes.

"I want to see my brother. Now," the young man said, leaving no room for the older men to deny him.

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**Oh yeah...big brother Dean is awake and there's no stopping him now. And hey, did you notice? NO CLIFFY!!!!!! Thought I'd give you all a small break. Of course, Sammy is still out, on a vent and looking like death warmed over, but other than that...........LOL Please let me know what you think! And thanks to everyone who took the time to read my little oneshot. Didn't expect the amount of comments I received. I'll try to reply to them, but I'm not feeling up to par right now. Think I'm getting the flu from my youngest! Little twerp! LOL Love you all.**

**Cindy**


	23. Chapter 23

**First of all, I want to apologize for not replying to the comments from the last chapter. I just have not been feeling well, and once I was feeling better, I wanted to spend my time on the chapter. I do appreciate all of the comments and continue to be blown away by the support for this story. Without further ado, onto the chapter.**

**Cindy**

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"_I want to see my brother. Now."_

Joshua and Bobby looked at each other as Dean tried to rise from the bed. They both moved to keep the young man in the bed, neither one wanting him to pop his stitches. John was already walking a tightrope, his emotional stability nearly nonexistent. If they allowed Dean to hurt himself while on their watch at the same time that John sat with his critically ill youngest son, there would be more than hell to pay.

"Hey…hey, easy, boy. You ain't getting out of that bed until the doctor says you can," Bobby snapped as he held Dean's shoulder, keeping the young man from moving.

Dean shrugged Bobby's hand off and glared up at the older man. "Get your hands off of me, Bobby. I'm going to go see Sam and nobody is going to stop me!" he shouted as he once again tried to stand.

"Dean, you just had surgery. You're daddy has Sam covered. Just get the rest you need and maybe tomorrow you can see Sam," Joshua said.

"Tomorrow? Are you out of your freakin' mind, Josh!? I ain't waiting until tomorrow. And excuse me, but Sammy needs me with him, not Dad. Dad let him get on that bus after Sam had just tried to kill himself! If he'd had the balls to say no to the kid, Sam wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed right now! I belong in that room with him, not Dad!" Dean screamed, the young man falling back as a wave of vertigo washed over him.

Joshua and Bobby held Dean's arms and eased him back into bed. "Dean," Bobby started, his heart going out to the young man. "I understand, I really do, but your dad needs this time with Sam. He's so full of guilt and…"

"He should be…hell, I am myself, but at least I tried to make it up to Sammy. Dad…he just let things keep snowballing until Sam took a gun and…he…he tried to shoot himself, Bobby," Dean cried, the young man very close to losing it. "Thank God he couldn't do it, but he tried. He was hurting that badly and Dad just let him talk him into going off on his own. I don't know…I'm guilty too…maybe neither of us deserves him…"

"Dean, that is so far from the truth. You both messed up, but you both love Sam more than anything…that's obvious. He needs you both so much. I know you're mad at John, but you need to put that aside…for Sammy," Joshua said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Dean gazed up at Joshua before dropping his eyes to his lap. "I'll try, but…when I saw Sammy in that barn…saw what those monsters had done to him…what that bitch was doing to him? I couldn't help but think if Dad had just been a father to him, he would never have been there. I can't shake it. I can't just let Dad off the hook this time. I've stood by and let him treat Sammy like crap and not said a word. No more…no more…"

"Dean," Bobby said, the older man brushing his hand over his face. "Okay, I understand…but Dean, don't do anything where Sammy can hear it, please? That kid doesn't need to see you two going at each other. He needs his family together…strong. You think you need to let your daddy have it, do it away from Sam's room. I'll go see if I can find your doctor and we'll see what he says. Just promise me you'll stay put until I can bring the doc back, okay?"

Dean shook his head as he looked up at Bobby. Finally, he laid back on his pillows and sighed. "Fine, I'll wait. And, just so you know, I had no intention of doing anything where Sammy might be able to hear, Bobby. He's been through enough," the young man said.

"That's good to hear, Dean. I'll be right back," Bobby said as he moved toward the door. He looked over at Joshua and cocked his head. "Don't let him leave this room, Josh," he said.

"He ain't going anywhere," Joshua said as he put himself between Dean and the door.

"Hey you jerks…I'm right here! Quit talking like I'm an idiot or something," Dean hissed, the young man fidgeting in the bed, obviously itching to get to his brother. "Just hurry up, Bobby. I ain't waiting for long."

"You remember who you're talking to, boy. You ain't too old or injured to get a paddling on your ass from Uncle Bobby!" Bobby quipped with a chuckle.

"Whatever…I'm shaking in my gown!" Dean shot back, the slightest hint of a smirk on his face.

Bobby shook his head and left the two younger hunters to themselves. His stomach grumbled and gurgled, but there were more important things to think about at the moment than feeding his face. He had to find Dean's doctor before the kid decided to take his bare ass down to Sam's room on his own. He went directly to the nurses station and waited for one of the nurses to notice him. When a short, middle aged nurse came up to him, he smiled and slightly tipped his hat.

"Hello…uh…Emily. I'm Bobby Singer. I'm the uncle of the patient in room 223…Dean Tilton. I need to speak with his doctor if I could. I believe her name is Dr. Gentry," Bobby inquired in his most polite voice.

"Of course, Mr. Singer. I believe Dr. Gentry is in the hospital. I'll have her paged," the nurse said sweetly.

"Thank you so much," Bobby said.

The nurse nodded and moved to the phone then sent out the page for the doctor. She returned to Bobby and smiled again. "Dr. Gentry has been paged. She should be here soon. If you want to wait in your nephews room, I'll send her in," the nurse said.

"Thank you. Oh, uh…is there a vending machine close by?"

"Down the hall in the waiting room, there's snacks and drinks. Help yourself."

Bobby nodded and headed toward the waiting room. Once he had retrieved the snacks and drinks, he returned to Dean's room, only to find the young man had fallen back to sleep. He handed Joshua a soda and some of the snacks then settled into a chair and absently ate as he watched Dean sleep.

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Caleb sat on the hard wood seat of the last row of pews in the small hospital chapel he had found. His eyes were bright with unshed tears as he stared up at the wooden cross that hung above the small altar at the front of the room. As hard as he tried, he could not shake the vision of Sam's battered and broken body from his mind. When he was able to banish the sight of Sam lying on the dirt floor of the barn, his body riddled with bitemarks and bruises, the vision was replaced with Sam lying in his hospital bed, the vent tube snaking from his mouth, helping the boy breathe. Caleb could no longer keep the tears from falling as he dropped his chin to his chest then leaned forward and rested his forehead on the pew in front of him.

Caleb flinched when he felt someone scoot into the seat beside him and heard whomever let out a soft sigh. He turned his head and upon seeing Pastor Jim sitting next to him, he sat up straight and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Jim…"

"No need to explain, Caleb. We all feel like crying right now. There's nothing wrong nor weak about it. Believe me, when I saw young Sam lying there, it was all I could do to keep from weeping," Jim said in a soft, comforting voice.

"Jim, if he dies…I…" Caleb started.

"Sam isn't going to die…he…"

"How do you know? He's really messed up. His liver was torn…had been bleeding for days and Jim…his legs…he…he said he couldn't feel his legs," Caleb cried softly.

"I have faith that our Lord will watch over our young friend and keep him wrapped in his loving arms until he is able to heal. As for Sam's legs, time will tell," Jim said in reply.

Caleb snorted as he stared over at the Pastor. "The doctor said that it is possible that Sam may never walk again…"

"And he also said that Sam could regain full use of his legs with time and hard work."

"Sh*t, Jim…he could be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life and it's my fault. I should have never let him stay here…I'm to blame for all of this…"

Jim grabbed the younger man and bent him over until his head was between his knees, his gentle hand rubbing circles over Caleb's back as he whispered softly for him to breathe.

"That's it, Caleb. Calm down and breathe in…now out…in…out…"

Caleb shrugged Jim's hand off and sat up, his face red as he took in several deep breaths. "Sorry, Jim…its just that…"

"I know…I understand. To know what Sam is facing is very hard, but he is a tough young man. With our support, he'll come out of this just fine," Jim said.

"Jim, I'm not sure that Sam wants to come out of this," Caleb said softly.

"I'm not sure if John told you this…why Sammy came to me, but…he…uh…"

"He what, Caleb?"

"He tried to…he tried to shoot himself."

"What!? No, John didn't tell me…"

"He did…at their motel in Jackson Hole. He asked to go to Bobby's and John let him, but he changed busses and came here. He called me, tricked me into telling him where I was then he stowed away in the back of my rig when Josh and I went to hunt the vampires."

"Why would John let Sam go off on his own after what the boy had just tried?" Jim asked incredulously.

Caleb looked at the pastor and shook his head. "He said he wanted Sam to know that he supported him. He didn't want to demand that he stay. What he didn't realize was that Sam would take it as another slap in the face. John had…I don't know if I should be telling you this, Jim…"

"I need to know so I can help, Caleb."

Caleb nodded before continuing. "After Dean was hurt in Oregon, John blamed Sam. Sam was hurt, but John didn't know. Well, later, John was telling Dean that he had planned to send Sam off to Bobby and Sam overheard so…"

"So, when John said yes to Sam, Sam thought he did it to get what he had wanted before."

Caleb nodded sadly and leaned back against the pew back. He glanced over as Jim leaned back too. "I don't know what to do, Jim. I think I should just leave. Johnny's pissed at me…Dean probably is too. I just don't think Sam needs to see me when…if he wakes up."

Jim reached over and grasped Caleb's arm, making sure the younger man was looking at him before he spoke. "You listen to me, Caleb. You will not leave. John and Dean are going to need all of us here and Sam…he's going to need you too. You suck it up, young man and quit feeling sorry for yourself."

Caleb stared over at the pastor, a shocked look on his face. His mouth hung open as he continued to stare.

"Shut your mouth, boy. Now, lets get down to see Dean. That young man will be waking soon. Josh and Bobby are going to have their hands full keeping him in bed," Jim said with a small chuckle.

"Uh…yeah…okay," Caleb muttered as he stood and scooted out of the pew behind Jim.

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When Caleb and Jim walked into Dean's room, it was like they had walked in on World War III. Dean was standing, his arm wrapped around his side, and glaring at the female doctor who stood before him. The look in the young man's eyes told the men all they needed to know. There was no way that anyone was going to keep Dean away from his brother and he would go over the top of the doctor if he had to.

"You can't keep me in this hospital if I don't want to stay! I'm an adult! I want to see my brother and I want to see him now! If you won't let me go, then I'll sign myself out AMA!" Dean shouted.

"Mr. Tilton…you've just had surgery," Dr. Gentry tried to explain.

"I don't give a rats ass! I'm fine…my brother is in the ICU! He needs me and you aren't going to keep me from him! Nobody is going to keep me from him!"

Jim hurried over and put himself between the young man and the doctor then turned to Dean and scowled. "Dean, sit down. You show her respect, young man."

Dean went to say something, but thought better of it. He slowly moved to his bed and sat down on the edge. He watched as Pastor Jim turned to the doctor and led her out of the room. A few minutes later, Jim and the doctor returned and all eyes were on them as they moved into the room. Dr. Gentry walked up to Dean and looked down at him.

"Okay, this is the deal. I will let you go see your brother as long as you go in a wheelchair and you stay in it…"

"No way…no wheelchair…"

"Dean! It's that or you stay here," Jim said sternly.

"I understand now how close you are to your little brother and I also understand how much you can help him by being there, but you won't do him any good if you end up making yourself sick or hurting yourself more. As long as you keep off your feet, you can stay with your brother for as long as the nursing staff in the ICU will allow," Dr. Gentry said.

Dean stared up at the doctor. "Thank you. I'll be careful and stay off my feet. Can I go now?"

Dr. Gentry stood back and gazed down at her patient. She pursed her lips then smiled softly. "Yes, of course. I'll let the ICU staff know that you are coming. They will keep an eye on you for me, so don't think you'll get away with anything, young man!"

Dean's stared up at the doctor with the most innocent look he could muster. "I'll be good…promise," he said, ignoring the chuckles that were coming from his friends.

Dr. Gentry shook her head and turned to leave the room. She turned to look over her shoulder as she opened the door. "I'll have a nurse bring you a wheelchair," she said and then the door closed behind her.

Dean glanced up at Jim and smiled. "Thanks, Pastor Jim," he said softly.

"Don't mention it, Dean. Now, I want you three to get a motel room and go get something to eat then get some sleep. I'll take care of things here," Jim said to the other three men in the room.

The three knew not to argue so they waited until the wheelchair had been brought and Dean was situated before they reluctantly left. Jim pushed Dean out of his room and headed down the hall toward the elevators. A few minutes later they were headed down the hall toward the ICU, Dean's stomach filled with butterflies at what he would see when he went into Sam's room. Finally, they were outside the room and Jim pushed the door opened, then rolled Dean into the room. Dean could never have been prepared for the sight of his Sammy lying in the bed, his body broken and abused and hooked up to so many machines. His eyes widened at the sight of not only his brother, but also of his father and the broken look in his eyes. His eyes moved back to Sam and tears filled them as he was pushed closer to the bed. He ignored John when the man looked up and across the bed at him. He had eyes only for his brother.

"Sammy? Oh God…Sammy…"

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**That's it for now. Sam should be waking up in the next chapter. I don't know about you, but I'm ready for the big time angst to begin. Take care all.**

**Cindy**


	24. Chapter 24

**Well, I'm finally back with an update. So sorry for the wait. I found some _things _on my back this week and had to go to the doctor to have them checked out. He had to cut them out to have them checked. I'm happy to say that everythings fine, but my back is still really hurting as whenever I sit back in chair or lie down to sleep, it aggravates the incisions. I know, I know...suck it up! So, enough about me...let the chapter begin.**

**Cindy**

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_"Oh God…Sammy…"_

Dean grabbed the railing of Sam's bed and pulled himself as close to the edge as he could, the young man needing to be as close to Sam as he could get. Even when his knees banged into the bedframe he didn't feel he was close enough so he fiddled with the railing, finally finding the mechanism to lower the last thing separating him from his brother. Finally, Dean was able to maneuver enough so that he could lean over the edge of the bed and reach Sam. He lifted a tentative hand up and rested it on Sam's moist forehead, but his eyes had found the vent tube and he couldn't tear them away. He had never thought he'd see his Sammy so bad off that he would need a ventilator to breathe and it tore him up inside to see it now. It was at that moment that he truly let it sink in that they could very well still lose the kid and he didn't even try to stop the tears that welled in his green eyes, only to spill over and down his cheeks a moment later. If anyone was deserving of Dean's tears, it was Sammy.

Dean finally turned his gaze to Sam's face, ignoring the tube as much as he could. He took in the deep bruising and cuts that littered his baby brother's face and the paleness under that bruising. His gaze moved down to Sam's neck and he bristled at the teeth marks that were visible at the juncture of the neck and shoulder. There were other marks that Dean recognized and it made his blood boil that the bitch vampire had dared to touch his brother in that way. He prayed that kissing and fondling was as far as the creature had gotten because he wasn't sure how Sam would handle it if it had gone any further than that. Hell, he wasn't sure how he would handle it if it came out that more had been done to Sam than just kissing and touching. He hadn't had the chance to talk to Caleb to see if the older hunter knew anything and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. A low, tired voice brought Dean's attention back from what he'd witnessed in the barn and he looked up into the dark, sad eyes of his father.

Dean narrowed his eyes as he looked at John. "What?" he hissed, the young man unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

John bit his lower lip and sighed as he realized he wasn't off the hook with his eldest just yet. "I asked how you were feeling. Are you in much pain?" he asked again, his voice filled with true concern.

"I'm not the one you should be worried about. Sammy can't even breathe on his own…"

"I'm perfectly aware of Sam's condition, Dean. I've been sitting with him for hours now. I figured you'd want me with him until you could get here yourself," John said, a slight hint of exasperation in his voice.

"So what? You want a Father of the Year award?" Dean spat, his fingers caressing Sam's forehead idly as he glared at his father.

"Dean…let's not start, okay? I know I screwed up, but this isn't going to help your brother…"

"You know what? I don't want to hear it, Dad. You fucked up…I fucked up. We both should be ashamed of ourselves, but at least I tried to make it up to the kid. You…you thought it was great that he was all gung ho so you just let it slide that he was a completely different person…and not in a good way!" Dean cried before pulling in a deep breath and trying to contain his anger. He had promised not to get into it with John when Sam was present, but seeing his baby brother so desperately injured had shaken him and he wasn't sure he could keep that promise.

John stood and slowly made his way around the bed. He knew it wasn't what Dean wanted, but he still reached out and grasped the young man's shoulder. He looked briefly to the ceiling then gazed down at his son. "I know. You're right about everything. I knew something was wrong with Sammy and I know you don't believe this, but it bothered me too. I…I just thought he'd get tired of acting like you and then we'd all go back to how we were before, but…"

"Oh…go back to you treating Sam like he was a second class citizen? You mean back to that? That's what started this whole damned mess!" Dean scoffed as he twisted out from under John's hand.

"No…not like that, Dean. I meant back to when Sam was still…Sam. I missed him…figured out that I didn't want what I thought I did. Realized too late that Sam was perfect just the way he was. Now…now we may never see that Sam again and it breaks my heart," John said, the pain so evident in his voice that it brought more tears to Dean's eyes, but his time the young man held them in.

"Dad…I want my Sammy back. I don't want the Sam that he became. I want him to walk out of this hospital and now that may not even be possible! I want…" Dean started, but the stress and emotional turmoil that he'd been in since Sam had disappeared finally became too much and he collapsed forward, his head hitting the mattress, and he began to softly weep.

John choked back his own tears and kneeled next to his son. He reached up and cupped the back of Dean's neck and squeezed gently. "Dean, we'll get him back. He will walk again and we'll make sure we do everything we can to get our Sammy back. God knows, I don't think I'd survive with two of you," he said with a soft chuckle.

Dean sat up and turned to his father. He let out a small chuckle himself and when John began to pull him close, the young man allowed it to happen. He didn't fight it when John wrapped his arms around him and hugged him close to his chest. He sunk his face into the crook of John's neck and let the tears fall. John rubbed his back, the older man's eyes bright with tears of his own. He glanced over at Sam and marveled at how he could have thought that the boy needed to be someone other than who he was. Sam was a bright light in the world of darkness they lived in. Why the hell would he want to snuff out that light? Why would he want Sam to lose that special something that made everyone who came in contact with him smile?

John shook his head at his own stupidity. He had two sons. Two individuals who had their own unique personalities. Why couldn't he have been happy with that? Sam balanced the scales with his sensitive, caring ways. Dean and John were the warriors, the fierce fighters and Sam was the thinker, a warrior in his own right, but his fiercest weapon was his mind. His research skills and analytical way of seeing things had saved them so many times, but John had failed to recognize it. Well, he recognized it now, but now it could be too late. He very well may never get the chance to tell his baby just how wonderful and perfect he was…is. Sam wasn't out of the woods yet and he could die never having heard his father tell him that he loved him, just the way he was. Sam had never heard his father tell him how proud he was of him. Not one single time. John was proud though and he vowed that if he was given the chance, he would tell Sam everything the boy deserved to hear.

John turned his attention back to Dean when the young man pulled away, one slightly shaky hand coming up to scrub at the tears that stained his reddened cheeks. Dean turned his head away, embarrassed about his outburst, but John reached out and tenderly pulled his face back around. "You don't need to be embarrassed, Dean," John started. "I've shed more than a few tears since they let me in here. It's hard, seeing Sammy this way and knowing…knowing that I put him here with my carelessness and stupidity."

"We put him here…both of us, Dad," Dean said softly as he turned red, swollen eyes back onto his brother.

"No…it's all on me. You said some things, but Sam knew you didn't mean them. He had all of the past years to look back on to know just how much you love him. He didn't have that with me. Of course, I love him, but I never really showed him that. Not in the way he needed to be shown. All that you need is a slap on the back and a quick atta boy and you know, but that's not Sammy. Sam needs something different and I didn't give it to him. This mess is mine and mine alone. Not yours…not Caleb's," John said as he gave Dean a sad smile.

Dean remained silent as he continued to stare at Sam. He was too tired to argue and for the most part his father was right. He wasn't going to let the man off the hook just to make him feel better. His father needed to feel guilty for awhile. God knew that Dean wouldn't be shedding his feelings of guilt for quite some time. Yes, Sam knew he loved him, but he'd still said some atrocious things and there was no way he'd be forgiving himself anytime soon so how could he expect Sam to forgive him? Of course, knowing Sam, he'd probably already forgiven him, but then again, that was the old Sam. Who knew how the new Sam would react. Dean glanced up at John then back at Sam, silently letting the man know that the conversation was over for the time being and that Sam would have his undivided attention. John took the hint and moved back around the bed and sat back in the chair he had just vacated. He glanced over Sam at Dean, but the young man paid him no attention as he began to card his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, the young man leaning in as close as his wheelchair and the bed would allow. "You gotta wake up for me, little brother. I need you…you gotta know I can't do this without you watching my back. Come on, you stubborn little twerp…wake up now. You got enough beauty sleep, Sammy."

John swallowed back the lump in his throat after hearing his eldest son's pleas to his little brother. He wished he could take Sam's place and give the boy back to his big brother, the man knowing that without Sam, Dean would be lost. Neither one could truly survive without the other and it made John a bit envious of their relationship. He was so thankful that they had each other, but wished that he could have that close of a bond too. He was close to Dean, but in more of a comrade in arms sort of way, but with Sam things had gotten to the point where they could barely be near each other without an argument breaking out between them. John glanced once more at Dean then turned his dark eyes onto his youngest. He would do everything in his power to change his relationship with his baby. He couldn't let them drift any further apart and it was high time that he admitted that he was the main reason for their estrangement, not Sam.

John scooted closer to the bed and reached out and took Sam's limp hand in his own. He glanced up to see that Dean was watching him and he nodded slightly before turning his gaze onto Sam's lax face. It hurt him deeply to see the bruises and cuts, but when he looked at the vent tube, it ripped his heart in two. His baby shouldn't be lying here in this bed, fighting for his life, his legs useless at the moment. He should be playing baseball or going to the movie with friends that he'd never had the chance to make because of the lifestyle his father had chosen for him. John cleared his throat as he leaned closer to Sam, his free hand coming up to brush over the boy's cheek.

"Sam, I know you've had a hard time of it lately and I know that I'm to blame for that, but I promise you, baby…I'm gonna make it up to you. I'm gonna be the dad you've needed me to be all along, but you need to wake up for me to do that," John said in a soft, emotion filled voice. "I'm gonna be a better father to you and Dean…I promise, kiddo so please open your eyes now."

John continued to watch Sam's face and Dean watched John's. He was shocked by his father's words, but he could see the sincerity in his face. Dean turned his attention back to Sam, his fingers continuing their movement through the boy's unruly mop of hair in the hopes that the touch would bring Sam out of his deep sleep. Dean needed to see his brother's eyes. He needed Sam awake so he could say all of the things he'd wanted to say, but couldn't. He wanted to tell the kid about their mother and about how much she loved him, how her eyes lit up whenever she held him in her arms. Sam had a right to know about her and he wouldn't be denied. They'd denied him for too long, but that was going to end.

Dean was just about to say something when he noticed movement beneath Sam's eyelids. He leaned further forward, his eyes intense as he stared at Sam's. "Sammy? You waking up, kid?" he said, the young man sensing his father standing, but refusing to take his eyes off of his brother.

"Sam…that's it son, open your eyes," John said as he leaned over the boy, his hand squeezing Sam's gently as he cupped his bruised cheek.

Sam's eyes moved more quickly under his lids and he suddenly started to make a choking sound. His eyes popped open, the hazel orbs filled with panic as he tried to breathe around the vent tube. His free hand came up and grasped weakly at the tube, but Dean somehow found the strength to make it to his feet and took the hand and pulled it away. John looked up into Dean's eyes then reached forward and pushed the call button before returning his attention back to Sam. He cupped Sam's cheek again and gently pulled his face toward him. He needed to calm the boy down before he did more damage to himself.

"Sam…son, calm down. The tube is there to help you, don't fight it. Just let it do it's job," John said softly, smiling warmly when Sam did calm, his eyes slowly losing the panic stricken look.

Suddenly, John was nudged aside as a young doctor moved in close, but the man refused to lose his contact with his son. He allowed he doctor room, but kept his grip on Sam's hand. He watched the doctor closely as he reached for the tube.

"Sam, I'm Dr. Yeardly. I'm going to remove this tube. I need you to listen to me very closely, okay?" the doctor said in a soothing voice. When Sam nodded, he smiled and continued. "Okay, when I tell you to, I need you to cough out as hard as you can. Now, I know it'll be painful, but it'll make it easier to get the tube out. Do you understand what I've just told you?"

Sam nodded, his frightened hazel eyes moving from the doctor's face to his fathers. He held John's gaze as the doctor removed the tape that held the tube in place then looked back at the doctor when he cleared his throat. "Okay, Sam, I'm ready to pull the tube out. Are you ready?"

Sam nodded again then moved his eyes to the other side of the bed, the boy relaxing visibly when he saw his brother was the one holding his other hand. "It's okay, Sammy. I'm here…I'll always be here," Dean cooed softly, the young man smiling warmly as soft hazel eyes stared deeply into his own green ones. "That's it, kiddo…"

"Okay, Sam…on three," the doctor said, making sure he had the boy's attention before taking hold of the tube with strangely delicate fingers. "Okay, Sam…one…two…three…"

Sam coughed out as the doctor pulled the tube, the boy gagging as the tube slid up his throat and out of his mouth. He continued to gag until bile spewed from his mouth, the foul liquid soaking the front of him before anyone could get his head turned to the side. Dean grabbed his brother and held him as he continued to dry heave, the young man whispering softly into his brother's ear. Finally, the heaving stopped and Sam turned his head back to look at his brother. He turned toward his father when John ran his fingers gently over his cheek. "You okay, Sammy?" John asked as he gazed down at his youngest son.

"'m 'k," Sam croaked tiredly, the boy lifting a hand from the bed, but dropping it down again as he lacked the strength to hold it up.

"Yeah, sure you're okay, Sammy," Dean said as he sat down on the edge of the bed and took Sam's hand.

"Sam, I need to check you over," Dr. Yeardly said as he moved up near Sam's head.

"Where's Dr. Henderson? He's been taking care of Sam," John said as he eyed the young doctor.

"He's in surgery so I'm covering his patients for the time being," Dr. Yeardly answered.

"You look a bit young and I'm sorry, but I need the best doctor taking care of my son," John said as he looked down at his exhausted boy.

"I understand, Mr. Tilton. I assure you, I may look young, but I'm perfectly capable of taking care of Sam until Dr. Henderson is finished with his surgery," Dr. Yeardly said.

"You better be," Dean said from his perch next to Sam.

Dr. Yeardly nodded then turned toward one of the nurses who stood nearby. "I need clean bandages brought in and of course, clean bedding and a clean gown. Also, get word to Dr. Henderson that his patient is awake so that he knows to come here straight away after his surgery," the doctor instructed.

The nurse left to carry out the doctor's instructions while the other nurse gently removed the soiled gown from Sam's weak body. Once the other nurse returned, the two got busy changing the top sheet and blanket and soon, Sam was in a clean, dry gown covered by crisp sheets and soft blankets. Dr. Yeardly had cleaned and bandaged Sam's side and the boy was resting with his father and brother on either side of him.

"Dr. Yeardly, thank you," John said as he reached out for the doctors hand.

The doctor shook John's hand and smiled. "Just doing my job, Mr. Tilton," the doctor said.

"Well, you do a good job," Dean said.

"Thank you," the doctor said before turning to leave the room. "Dr. Henderson will be here soon to check on Sam himself," and then the doctor was gone.

John watched the door for a moment before turning back to his sons. He looked down at Sam and smiled. "Sam, how you doing, kiddo?" he asked.

Sam gazed up at his father with tired, hazel eyes. "Dad…I…I can't feel my legs. Am I…am I…" the boy began before his eyes filled with tears.

Dean stood from his wheelchair and sat next to Sam on the bed, taking the boys hand in his. "Sammy…it's not permanent. Don't worry, there's nothin' broken," he said, a hitch to his voice.

John moved next to Dean and looked down at Sam. "Sam, you have some swelling in your lower spine, but Dr. Henderson is giving you medicine to take the swelling down," John said.

"Even if the swelling does go down, it doesn't mean I'll be able to walk again," Sam whispered, the boy turning his head away from his father and brother.

"Sammy, that's not true…" Dean started.

Sam rolled his head back toward them and smiled sadly. "Yes it is. I'm not stupid…I know it could be permanent. Might as well ship me off to Pastor Jims. I'm completely useless now," he said as tears began to stream down his cheeks.

Dean looked at John, his own tears spilling over his lids. John sat on the edge of the bed and took Sam's hand. Sam gazed up through his tears, the look of devastation on his face breaking his father's heart.

"Sam…I'll never ship you off. You'll never be useless…"

"You thought I was before…you wanted me to go stay with Bobby…"

"I was stupid and selfish, Sammy. I love you so much. You and Dean are my whole life, kiddo. We'll get through this…together," John said as he tenderly squeezed his son's hand.

"I wish…I wish it were true, Dad…I know I'm not the son you wanted. I tried, I really did, but I just can't…" Sam replied, his eyes beginning to droop as exhaustion pulled at him.

"It is true…I love you, Sam. I was wrong to expect you to be someone you weren't when there was nothing wrong with who you were to begin with," John said, sighing when he saw that the boy had fallen off to sleep. He leaned over and tenderly kissed Sam's forehead before standing and setting Sam's hand down on the mattress.

"Dad…what if he doesn't walk again?" Dean asked, his green eyes pleading for an answer. "What'll we do?"

John looked up and shook his head. "He'll walk again, Dean and if, by chance he doesn't, well I guess we better figure out where we want to settle down because there isn't a chance in hell that I'm going to leave him somewhere while we travel from hunt to hunt," he said in reply.

Dean stared at his father, not sure if he could believe the man. He may be able to settle down for awhile, but it wouldn't take long for the call of the hunt to draw him out again. Dean shook his head and gazed down at his sleeping brother, his fingers reaching down to brush the hair from Sam's eyes. He looked up again smiled sadly.

"I wish I could believe you, Dad…I really do, but you live for the hunt. I did too, but…I have to live for him now…especially if…"

John reached out and took Dean's arm, prodding the young man to move from the bed to his chair. John kneeled down beside the chair and stared up into his eldest son's eyes. "I know that I've put the hunts before you…before Sammy. But, no more. You two are the most important things in my life. What's the use in hunting down your mother's killer if I don't have my boys? It's not what she would want. I know it'll be hard, but if it's what Sammy needs, then that's what I'll do," he said, hoping that Dean would believe him, but hoping more that he could keep his promise if it came down to it.

Dean stared at his father then looked over at Sam. "He has to walk again, Dad. He has to," he whispered as he collapsed against the back of the wheelchair.

"He will, Dean. He will walk again," John said in reply, praying that he was right.

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**So, that's it for now. I hope you enjoyed it and that it was worth the wait. Please let me know.**

**Cindy**


	25. Chapter 25

**Okay, just finished this up right when Supernatural was beginning. Its now a commercial so I figured I better get it posted. Angst fest warning. Yep, worse than the last chapter.**

**Cindy**

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**The Next Day**

Caleb, Joshua and Bobby strolled down the hall toward Sam's ICU room, the three hunters already having stopped by Dean's room only to find it had been vacated. It didn't surprise the men too much, but they did feel a measure of concern that John had allowed his eldest son to be released so soon after surgery. Of course, once Dean set his mind to something, especially when it concerned the youngest Winchester, there was no talking him out of it. The men made a right at the next hall and saw John and Dean halfway down, standing outside of Sam's room, both men looking more than a little agitated. The three hunters picked up their pace as the thought that something had happened to Sam invaded their minds. John turned his head in their direction and the men could plainly see the stress that darkened the hunter's eyes.

"Johnny, what's going on?" Bobby queried as the hunters met up.

"Agent Gallagher is in interviewing Sammy," John said as he turned back to the window that separated him from his youngest son.

The three hunters moved around so that they could see into the room, their protective natures taking over as they saw that Sam was clearly upset as the CPS agent talked to him. They bristled as the man reached out and brushed his hand down Sam's forearm apparently trying to comfort the boy, but Sam would have nothing of it by the looks of things. The boy jerked his arm away from the man's touch and the agent pulled back his hand, the men reading the apology on the man's lips.

"Why the hell is that dick touching my brother?" Dean hissed, the young man's eyes glued to the boy in the bed just past the window.

"He's trying to calm Sam down by the looks of things," Joshua said in reply.

"Yeah…well, Sam wouldn't need calming down if the jerk wasn't in there interrogating him," Dean snapped back, his green eyes flashing dangerously as he gazed over at his friend.

"Mr. Gallagher is just doing his job, Dean," Pastor Jim's voice sounded, his sudden appearance making the other hunters turn in his direction.

"I'm sure there are other kids out there for him to harass…he should just leave my brother alone," Dean said as he turned back toward the window.

"I understand your feelings…all of yours, but in my conversations with the agent, I found him to be very caring and truly concerned for Sam. He's not trying to ruin anybody's lives here, he's just trying to make sure that Sam is safe," Pastor Jim explained as he peered at the men.

"Yeah…safe from us. He thinks we're hurting Sam and he could have him taken from us," John said.

"He's not trying to pin Sam's injuries on you or Dean, or any of us. He's trying to understand the situation," Pastor Jim said.

"Yeah, I guess, but why does he have to interrogate the kid when Sam just woke up and is hurting and scared?" Caleb said, the hunter in full on protective mode, just like Dean was.

"He has time restraints…he has a boss he has to report to and this is a…unique case? I'm sure he's being pushed to get to the bottom of things," the pastor said in reply.

"Sam doesn't need this stress…he needs to rest," Dean hissed as he turned toward the pastor. "He needs his family with him."

"You'll be with him soon, Dean. Let's all just calm down and wait for the interview to be over, okay?" John said softly.

"How long has the agent been in there?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"About a half hour," John answered.

Just as Dean was about to comment, the agent rose from his seat next to Sam's bed and headed toward the door. All eyes except Dean's watched the agent as he made his way out of the room. Dean however could not look away from Sam. It broke the elder brother's heart to see the lost look on his baby brother's face and he swore that he would find a way to erase that look, no matter what it took. He didn't look over as Agent Gallagher stepped through the doorway, but he heard as the door was shut softly behind the man.

"Uh…Mr. Tilton, can we find someplace private to talk?" Agent Gallagher inquired as he stepped up to the group of hunters.

"Anything you have to say you can say right here," John said.

"Okay, if that's what you want," the agent said.

"Can I go sit with Sammy?" Dean queried as he finally pulled his attention away from the boy in the bed to gaze at the men. "He shouldn't be alone."

Agent Gallagher thought for a moment then smiled slightly. "Yes, of course you can sit with your brother. I agree that he shouldn't be alone," the agent answered.

Dean wasted no time in making his way to the door and stepping into the room. The others watched through the window as the young man took the seat vacated by the CPS agent before taking Sam's hand in his. He smiled warmly at his brother and his lips began to move as he no doubt began to speak words of comfort to the boy. John watched his boys for a moment longer before turning back to the CPS agent.

"Okay, Agent Gallagher, what is it you want to tell me?"

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**The Interview**

Sam lay in his bed, the teen swallowing as he watched his father and brother ease past the CPS agent who stood near the door. Dean glanced over his shoulder at his brother and smiled before he followed his father out of the room. Sam turned his attention on the man who gazed down at him and narrowed his eyes. The man smiled then made his way around the bed and took the chair that Dean had been sitting in.

"Sam, I'm Agent Gallagher," the man said softly. "I'm with Child Protective Services."

"I know who you work for. You want to take me away from my family," Sam said shortly, his hazel eyes locked on the agent.

"No, I want to make sure that you're safe, Sam. If you're safe with your family then I want you to stay with them," the agent said in reply.

"Yeah…right," Sam scoffed as he turned his eyes away. He glanced out the observation window and saw that his father and brother stood just outside, both men watching the scene intently.

"Sam, I don't know what you've heard of CPS, but I assure you I'm not here to take you away from anyone…as long as I'm sure that you aren't being hurt by those that are supposed to be taking care of you."

Sam turned his gaze back on the agent and frowned. He watched the man for a moment then turned his gaze away. He avoided the anxious eyes that watched him through the window, choosing instead to stare at the wall just beside the window. He ignored the agent as the man asked questions of him, the boy purposely closing his eyes as if he had fallen asleep. Agent Gallagher leaned forward and gazed down at the quiet teen.

"Sam, I know you aren't sleeping. We can get this over with a lot quicker if you cooperate," Agent Gallagher said, the man keeping his voice low and even as he spoke.

Sam opened his eyes and turned his head toward the agent. "What does it matter what I say? You've already made up your mind about all of this," Sam said.

"No, I haven't. I'm confused by your injuries though and I'm quite concerned. If your family is hurting you, you need to tell me, Sam."

Sam shook his head and continued to stare at the man, but he said nothing. Agent Gallagher sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Look, I have all day. I understand that this is all very stressful, but I want to get it over with just as much as you do. The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner we can get this whole mess straightened out."

Sam glared at the man and pursed his lips. "You don't want the truth. You want to take me away from my father and brother and put me into some foster home. Why should I waste my breath when you won't listen to me?"

"You don't know me, Sam. I don't just take kids away from their families without good reason. You have some very serious injuries that are suspicious and it's my job to find out just what happened to put you in this condition."

Sam took a deep breath and glanced up at the agent. "What do you want to know?" he asked, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to get rid of the man until he answered his questions.

"Well, I guess we can get right to it. Has your father or brother ever hit you? Have they caused any of your injuries…old or new?"

"No. My father and brother would never hurt me. They have never laid a hand on me," Sam answered evenly.

"Did they tell you to tell me that? Did they threaten you in any way if you told me that they were hurting you?"

Sam bristled at the man's question. He glared at the agent, his jaw working as he ground his teeth together. "Are you saying that I'm lying?" he asked crossly.

"No, Sam. I'm just trying to figure out the truth here."

"I'm telling you the truth. I may be annoying and a pain in the ass and I may be a piss poor son, but one thing I'm not is a liar. I've been lied to and I know how it feels," Sam said, his voice barely over a whisper.

"Why do you say you're a poor son? Has your father told you that?"

Sam sighed and looked down toward his feet. "No, he hasn't. I ran away. I scared my family and look what happened. I'd call that being a poor son. I don't deserve their concern. I should have just…I…"

The agent watched Sam with concern as the boy seemed overcome with emotion. "What, Sam? You should have what?"

Sam gazed up at the man and bit his lower lip. "Nothing…it's nothing."

"Sam, why did you run away?" the agent asked, his concern ratcheting up a notch at the Sam's growing agitation.

"Dad and I haven't been getting along that well lately. When Dean got hurt in Oregon, Dad thought it was because I messed up and maybe it was. We'd been arguing and…well, Dean got hurt…"

"You got hurt too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did, but that's not important. I was being selfish, thinking about myself and some stupid test. If Dean hadn't been mad at me for fighting with Dad, he wouldn't have gotten hurt. If I had been the son Dad needs me to be, we would have been fine."

"Sam, you can't be someone you aren't. You can't change yourself to please others."

"Yes, you can and I've tried. Just not hard enough, I guess."

Agent Gallagher shook his head as he gazed at the miserable teen. "Is that why you ran away? You couldn't be who you thought you had to be?"

"I ran away because I'm selfish and I'm stupid. My dad and brother trusted me to go to my uncles like I'd said I was, but I didn't. The blame is on me, not them."

"From my talk with Pastor Murphy, you are anything but selfish and stupid, Sam. According to the Pastor, you put everyone else ahead of yourself, and he says you're a genius. Why are you so hard on yourself?"

Sam looked up at the agent and frowned. "Pastor Jim doesn't know the real me I guess. Dad and Dean do though. They'd be better off without me, that's for sure. And now that I can't walk, I'm even more useless to them," Sam said sadly.

Agent Gallagher leaned forward and placed his hand on Sam's forearm in a show of comfort, but the boy jerked his arm away from the man's touch. "Sam, I'm sorry…"

"For what? You didn't do anything. Maybe it would be better if you took me from them. You could put me in a home for useless teenagers or something then they wouldn't be stuck with a cripple like me," Sam said softly, a lone tear making it's way down his flushed cheek.

"Sam, I'm pretty sure your family doesn't see you as useless and as for not walking, the doctor said there is a chance that you will walk again," Agent Gallagher said.

"Doesn't matter, I was useless before and I'm useless now," Sam whispered as he rolled his head to look at the wall behind the agent.

"Sam…"

"Are we done now, because I'm tired," Sam said, his head rolling back to gaze pleadingly at the agent.

Agent Gallagher sighed as he watched the boy. Finally, he nodded and stood. "Okay, you sleep and I'll go talk to your father," he said before making his way to the door.

Sam watched the agent leave and as soon as the door shut behind him, he let the tears fall. He didn't want to leave his family, but he couldn't stay with them, not like this. Who ever heard of a hunter in a wheelchair? He wasn't much of a hunter before he lost the use of his legs, but now? They may as well take him out and shoot him, his life was pretty much over anyway. Sam brushed at the tears on his face when he heard the door open. He looked up and sighed inwardly when Dean stepped into the room. He gazed up at his brother as the young man reached the bed and dropped down into the chair. Sam allowed Dean to take his hand, the boy needing the comfort his brother's touch brought.

"Hey, kiddo…you okay?" Dean said softly as he gazed down at his little brother.

"Yeah…I'm fine," Sam whispered in reply.

"You don't look fine, Sammy. Did that dick upset you? You want me to kick his ass?" Dean queried, is anger rising at the look of misery on his baby brother's face.

"No…he was okay, Dean. I'm just tired," Sam said.

"You sure? I really want to kick someone's ass…I'm having withdrawals here," Dean said, hoping to cheer his brother up, if only a little bit.

Sam looked sadly up at his brother and shook his head. "I'm sure…just tired. I think I'm gonna sleep for awhile, if its okay with you?"

Dean looked down at the hand he held in his own and nodded. "Yeah, sure, kiddo…sleep," he said, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of the smaller hand.

Sam rolled his head away and closed his eyes, leaving Dean to watch him with concern filled eyes. Dean finally laid Sam's hand down on the bed and leaned back in his chair. He watched as Sam's breathing evened out and the boy fell asleep. When he was sure Sam was truly sleeping, he leaned forward and brushed the hair from his forehead, his fingers lingering in his hair as he fought with his emotions. Sam couldn't stay like this, he just couldn't. His little brother would walk again and he'd be happy again, Dean would make sure of it. Anything less was unacceptable.

"I'm gonna make this right, Sammy…I promise you that. You're going to walk again," Dean said as he gazed down at Sam's peaceful face.

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John waited until Dean had settled next to Sam before he turned from the window and faced Agent Gallagher. "Okay, Agent Gallagher, what is it you want to tell me?" he asked with his heart in his throat.

Agent Gallagher glanced at the expectant eyes of the men who surrounded him then turned his attention back to John. "Sam and I had an interesting talk, Mr. Tilton…"

"What did Sam say?" John queried impatiently.

"Well, he said that you nor your son have ever hurt him. He was adamant that I understand that," the agent replied.

"I told you I would never hurt my boys…never," John said, the man relaxing just a little bit at the man's words.

"Yes, you did. My concern now lies with Sam's emotional and mental well being. He...he doesn't put much value on himself. Why would he think so little of himself?" the agent asked, his eyes boring into the man before him.

John gazed through the window at his sons, his heart breaking as he contemplated what he'd just been told. He returned his gaze to the agent and dropped his eyes. "I guess that would be my fault. I've been really hard on the kid. I don't give out compliments easily and I give them out even less with Sam. I expect a lot from my boys…I guess that's the Marine in me. Dean…he thrives on all of it, but Sammy? He's so much like his mother, so sensitive," John said softly.

"Yes, well…you have a real problem on your hands. That boy, he thinks he's useless. He feels no self worth. He thinks he should be put in a home…that you and his brother would be better off without him with you," the agent said.

"You're not taking him away from us, are you?" Caleb asked fearfully as he gazed at the two Winchester brothers.

"My head says that I need to get that boy some help…" the man started.

"What!? You can't do that…he needs his family!" Joshua cried, his anger filled eyes flashing dangerously.

"Joshua, let the man speak," Pastor Jim said, his own eyes filled with worry as he glanced first at the CPS agent, then at John.

"Thank you, pastor. As I was saying, my head says to get that boy someplace where he can receive counseling, but my heart says that to take him away from his family would be more detrimental to his well being. The thing I am struggling with is will you get him the help he needs? Once I'm out of the picture, will things go back to the way they've been? I need to be very frank with you, Mr. Tilton. If you don't figure things out with Sam, I'm afraid you will lose him. I'm not going to say he's suicidal, but I think he could easily become that way. He's very depressed right now…about his legs, about how you see him and his place in your family. He needs you to let him know that he has worth in your eyes. He seriously needs counseling. Can you promise me that Sam is going to get all of the things he needs?"

John stood, unable to speak for a moment. He stared at the man before him then turned to look through the window. Sam appeared to be sleeping and Dean was…well, Dean was in total big brother mode, fingers brushing lightly through messy chocolate hair, lips turned up into a warm smile as he gazed down at his baby brother. John choked back a sob then turned back to the agent.

"Sammy will get everything that he needs. Jim is a licensed counselor and really has a way with him. We'll take Sam to Blue Earth as soon as he can travel and we'll stay there until he is back to being himself," John said, his gaze moving to Jim who nodded his approval. "Look, I know I've really dropped the ball with my baby, but I'm going to do everything I can to make up for it."

Agent Gallagher looked down at his notebook and contemplated John's words. They seemed sincere and the agent knew from what he had seen with Sam that despite the kids words, he would not make it without his family. Finally, the agent looked up and nodded.

"I will release him to your care…as long as I have your promise that you will do as you've just said," the agent said.

"Oh god, thank you," John breathed out, his hand immediately coming out to take the smaller man's hand. "I promise, Sam will get everything that he needs."

"I expect to be kept apprised of his progress. As long as you follow the instructions I leave with you, I will not contact CPS in Minnesota, but if I even suspect that Sam is not being cared for in the manner he should be, I will waste no time in contacting them."

John nodded and glanced at his friends, smiling at the relieved looks on their faces. "Sam will be taken care of. He will be hovered over and mother henned like no other kid has ever been mother henned. He will become sick of us…he'll roll his eyes and huff and puff and he'll probably quit talking to us, but we won't leave him alone and we won't let him give up," he said, his voice taking on the energy that had been missing since this whole nightmare had begun.

The agent nodded as he listened to John speak. "I'll get the papers drawn up and the instructions for what is expected of you. I just want to make sure that in the middle of all of the mother henning and hovering that you let Sam see that you love him. I think that's what he needs most of all. He needs to know that he has value, that he is loved…that he's not useless."

"Sam is loved, Agent Gallagher. He will know that he is loved. He won't be denied anything that he needs. Not a damned thing."

"That's good to hear, Mr. Tilton. That's really good to hear. I wish you luck…all of you. Take care of that boy. Take care of both of them. They really are special."

"I know, Agent Gallagher. I know."

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

**So, that's it for now. Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	26. Chapter 26

**I have a short update for you. I'm sorry for the length, but I hope the quality makes up for it. Warning: tissue alert! One more thing: I want to thank all of you who took the time to comment on the last chapter. I have just been so busy this past week that I didn't have time to reply to each comment. My job of oh, about 27 years ended last Friday and we had to do so much crap to get things ready to hand over to the office taking my job. Now, don't worry, I still have a job. My company created a position for me and I'll be back on normal hours again for the first time in two years. It's just been so hectic and stressful. I'm sorry for not replying personally. Okay, on with the story. **

**Cindy**

* * *

**Two Days Later**

John paced the small, private room Sam had been moved to, his eyes moving to his youngest son in the bed, the boy sleeping soundly from the drugs he'd been given so he could be scanned again to check his spine. John's eyes then moved to his older son, himself sound asleep in the chair next to Sam's bed, the young man refusing to go to the motel that their friends had rented. The three Winchesters were alone for the moment, the other hunters having gone for lunch about an hour ago, but John expected them to return at any moment. None of the men ever stayed gone for very long except when they retired to the motel for the night and even then they left reluctantly, always offering to stay with Sam so the Winchesters could get some decent sleep in decent beds. Of course, John and Dean always turned them down. There was no way either man was leaving Sam, even if it were with their most trusted friends. They'd been separated from him far too much lately and they couldn't stomach not being near him.

John looked up when the door opened and Dr. Henderson walked into the room carrying what John presumed was Sam's medical chart. Dr. Henderson looked up and smiled when he saw John glancing expectantly at him.

"John, I suppose you've been pacing since we took Sam away for his scan?" the doctor queried as he moved up to the bed and peered down at his young patient.

"Not much else to do," John replied, his heart hammering in his chest as he gazed at the doctor. "Uh…how is he doing? How did the scan go?"

"Dad?" Dean's sleepy voice sounded, bringing both older men's attention around to the eldest Winchester brother. "Is Sammy okay?"

"He's sleeping. Dr. Henderson just showed up to hopefully give us good news about Sammy's scan," John replied.

Dean rose from his chair and glanced down at Sam, the young man reaching down to straighten the covers over his brother's chest before looking up into the eyes of the doctor. "Is he better? Is the swelling going down? Is he going to be walking soon?" Dean's questions came out like bullets, but the doctor just smiled and waited patiently until he had finished.

"Uh…I was hoping to talk to all three of you together, but Sam still seems to be under the influence, so to speak…" the doctor started.

"'m 'wake," Sam slurred as his eyes fluttered open revealing glassy hazel iris's that moved sluggishly between the men who surrounded his bed. "So, 'm I gonna be a cripple forever?"

"Sammy…don't say that," Dean said, his voice stuttering as he sat on the edge of the bed and took Sam's hand into his.

"Dean's right, Sam. That's nothing to joke about," John said sternly, but the look in his eyes said he was scared beyond belief for his baby.

"Not joking, just being realistic," Sam said, his voice clearer as he came more awake.

"You're not going to be paralyzed, Sam…you're not," Dean said as he gave Sam's hand a gentle squeeze.

"I could be, Dean…we don't know. Even when the swelling goes down, it doesn't mean that my legs will come back, right Dr. Henderson?" Sam said, his head rolling on the pillow to look at the doctor.

"Well, yes, that is true, but you could also regain complete strength and feeling, Sam. A positive attitude goes a long way," Dr. Henderson replied.

"I really don't feel very positive right now. I'm still flat on my back and still can't feel my legs. Just…what did the scan show?" Sam asked tiredly.

"Well…the swelling has gone down. Not completely, but it's gone down about how much it should have by this point, so things are looking good in that department," Dr. Henderson answered.

"So, the swelling has gone down and I'm still completely useless. I guess we have our answer on whether I'm gonna remain limp boy, huh?" Sam snorted humorlessly.

"Sammy…" Dean started.

Dr. Henderson held up his finger, stopping Dean with one look. He glanced down at the boy in the bed and crossed his arms. "Sam, just because you haven't noticed a change yet, that doesn't mean you won't. The swelling has gone down, but it will take longer for us to see any change in your legs. This isn't something that's going to just fix itself overnight."

John moved his gaze from the doctor to his youngest son. He eased up to the side of the bed and reached down to brush the hair from Sam's eyes, a sad smile on his face. Hazel eyes looked up at him before flitting quickly away again.

"Sam, listen to Dr. Henderson. You can't heal overnight, like he said. We're all here to help you, but you have to do your part. You have to believe that you will walk again and…"

Sam looked back up at his father and shrugged. "So, I'm getting the marine talk now? I can't believe you didn't just come out and tell me to suck it up, Dad. You make it sound like you're being the good father, but really you're telling me to stop whining and get over it. You'll get to pawn me off on Pastor Jim or put me away in some home, then you'll get your wish to hunt with Dean and not have to worry about your weak son anymore," he shot before turning his eyes away once again.

"Sam…that's not true. I'm not pawning you off on anyone. You're staying with Dean and I…no matter what," John said in reply, his dark eyes gazing down at his stricken son.

"Hey, good idea. Take cripple boy along on hunts. You could use me as live bait…you know I wouldn't be able to run away if I got scared…"

"Sam…stop! That's not what Dad meant. He…he said that if you don't get the use of your legs back, we'll stop hunting and settle down somewhere," Dean said as he peered down at his brother.

"And you believe him? God, Dean…sometimes you can be so gullible. Dad isn't going to give up hunting. Not for me. Maybe if it were for you, but not me…"

"Stop it, Sam! Just stop it! This kind of attitude isn't going to help anybody, especially you! If by chance you don't get the use of your legs back, we are going to settle down. I am not sending you away to stay with anyone. We are a family and we are going to stay together as a family," John scolded, irritation darkening his voice.

Sam looked up at his father, his mouth opening to speak, but just then the door to his room opened and Caleb, Bobby and Joshua strolled into the room. They had smiles on their faces, but when they saw the looks on the other occupants faces, their smiles disappeared.

"Uh…is everything okay here?" Bobby asked nervously. "Is Sam okay?"

"You don't have to talk about me like I can't answer for myself, Bobby. I'm crippled, not stupid," Sam snapped, his hazel eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Samuel…that's enough! Bobby and the others are just concerned about you. They've done a lot for you so you better show them some respect!" John hissed. "You should be thankful that you're alive…"

"You call this being alive!? I can't move my legs, I have a tube running up my…I can't pee without…this isn't living, Dad! This is hell!" Sam screamed, the tears he'd been holding at bay streaming down his cheeks in torrents.

"Sammy…" Dean started, his own tears making an appearance at seeing his brother's anguish.

"I-I'm sorry, Sam…this is my fault. I shouldn't have…I was weak…I…" Caleb stammered, the hunter stepping closer to the bed before stopping a few feet away.

"Caleb, this isn't your fault. This is on me…all of it," John said in comfort to his friend.

"No," Sam said softly, all eyes in the room instantly on him. "This…" he said, his hand sweeping over his legs in a quick gesture, "this is my fault. I have nobody to blame but myself. If I had been the son Dad wanted, none of this would have happened. If I had gone to Bobby's like I said I was going to…this is not your fault, Caleb. You did the best you could to keep me safe. I'm here because I'm weak…because I'm selfish…"

"Sam…stop. Please…just stop," Dean pleaded as he took his brothers hand up from the bed. "Nobody's to blame and for God's sake…you are anything but weak! You are not selfish!"

John stepped closer to the bed and lowered the railing. He sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers down Sam's arm. Sam gazed up at him, his sad eyes breaking his fathers heart. "Sam, you are exactly the son I want you to be. You are exactly the son I need you to be. I was wrong to expect you to be something else. I was the one who was selfish. I'm the weak one. How could I ever want you to be anyone but who you are? You're a treasure…to all of us, kiddo," the man said, his voice hitching with emotion. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner…before all of this happened."

"Dad…" Sam whispered, his eyes filling again. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry." And then the boy began to weep.

John leaned over and cupped Sam's face between his hands. He rested his forehead against Sam's and his tears met his sons. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. Absolutely nothing, do you hear me?" he whispered for his son's ears only.

John pulled away and gazed down at Sam. Sam gazed back and smiled warmly. "You promise, Dad?" he asked softly.

"Promise what, Sammy?" John asked in reply.

"That if…if I…that we'll settle down. You won't leave me?"

"I promise, Sam. I'll never leave you. Never."

* * *

**So, that's it for now. Once again, sorry for the short chapter. I hope you'll let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hello all! So sorry for the delay. I tried posting yesterday, but the site would not let me log in...same thing earlier today. Please enjoy.**

**Cindy**

* * *

Dr. Henderson watched the scene, a lump forming in his throat at the tenderness between father and son. One thing bothered him though. It was something Sam had said and he felt he had to intrude to clarify Sam's statement. The doctor cleared his throat and waited until John and Sam were facing him before he began to speak.

"Uh…what did you mean, Sam? When you said that your father would be free to hunt with Dean, what did you mean? And when you said they could use you as live bait? Seems quite a strange thing to say," the doctor queried, not noticing the uneasy looks on the faces of the men behind him.

Sam's eyes widened, but only momentarily. He recovered quickly and smiled sheepishly up at the doctor. "Oh, yeah. I guess that would seem weird. Uh…Dad likes to hunt. Deer, bear, birds…Dean loves it too. Me? Not so much. That's why we're in the woods so much," the boy answered, his hazel eyes glancing up at his father before returning to the doctor.

"Okay, I guess I can see that, but why would you say they could use you as bait, that you couldn't run away if you got scared?" Dr. Henderson asked.

"That…that was to piss Dad off. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it…I was just…"

"He was being a little bitch, that's what that was all about," Dean said, rescuing his brother from the lies he knew the kid hated to tell. "See, Dad had this friend…an old Marine buddy. He had a kid about my age and we used to go hunting together. Well, Jack was a mean old son of a bitch, especially to Steve. One hunt…bear hunt, Jack made Steve stand in the middle of this clearing and he splashed blood on him. Basically used his own kid for bait. Well, Jack wasn't quick enough with his gun and Steve got real messed up before Dad finally killed the sucker," the young man explained, the lie flowing effortlessly from his lips.

Dr. Henderson's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open in shock. "He used his kid for bait? Seriously? That's…that's criminal," the doctor said, his voice shaking in anger.

"Yeah, well…that's the last time we ever hunted with Jack. Steve got taken away from him. Went to live with his grandparents seeing as his mother was dead. Poor kid was never the same," John jumped in, his dark eyes moving from Dean to the doctor as he shrugged his shoulders.

"God, that's awful," the doctor said, seeming to take the story as the truth and as the explanation for Sam's outburst.

"I remember you telling me about that, Johnny. What ever happened to Jack anyway?" Bobby queried, a sparkle to his dark eyes.

John glared at the older hunter before shrugging his shoulders again. "He kicked off a few years ago. Hunting accident if you can believe that," he answered smugly.

"Well, that's what I'd call poetic justice right there," Dr. Henderson said quietly.

"Yeah…bastard deserved it if you ask me," Dean said as he moved closer to Sam's side, taking the boys hand into his own.

"Well…now that we've cleared that up I'm going to go check on my other patients. I'll be back later on to see how everything is going. Sam, I'm going to have the nurse come in and raise the top of your bed up a bit. It's about time you were able to see more than the ceiling and I want you to try and eat a little something. Just clear liquids right now…broth, jello, tea," Dr. Henderson said.

"That sounds great, Sammy…don't you think?" Dean asked excitedly, his green eyes gazing down at his baby brother, a broad smile on his lips.

"Yeah…great," Sam said softly, a small smile curling his own lips.

Dean's smile faltered at the lack of enthusiasm in his brother's voice. "Hey…you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine…a little tired," Sam replied.

"That's to be expected after what you've been through and what you're still going through, Sam," Dr. Henderson said as he grasped Sam's wrist and squeezed gently.

With that, the doctor turned and left the room, the door closing quietly behind him. John watched the doctor leave then turned back toward his sons. He took a seat next to the bed and smiled as he took Sam's hand. Sam rolled his head toward his father and smiled tiredly.

"Hey," John said softly.

"Hey," Sam said in reply.

"You're going to walk again, Sammy. I promise you, we are going to do everything in our power to make that happen, but you have to do your part. I know you can do it, kiddo…I know you can. I have faith in you, but you…you have to have faith in yourself. You can't give up…not on us and not on yourself," John said as he leaned in close to his son.

Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat as he listened to his father's words to his brother. He turned his gaze from John to Sam and saw the tears glistening in the corners of his hazel eyes. Sam had needed this from his father for so long and now that he was finally getting it, Dean knew the kid had no idea how to take it. His brother seemed overwhelmed and Dean wasn't quite sure if Sam really believed his father yet. He'd been treated as if his needs didn't matter for so long it would be hard for him to just believe his father after just one conversation, despite how heartfelt it had been. Dean knew John was off the hook just yet, he just hoped that John would continue to do the right thing so they could be a family again.

The men in the room turned as the door opened and Sam's nurse walked into the room, a tray laden with what the men assumed to be the clear broth and jello the doctor had mentioned in her hands.. She smiled at the hunters before moving toward the bed and setting the tray on the table that sat on the other side of John.

"Hey Sam, Dr. Henderson wants me to lift your head up a bit so you can have a change of scenery and get a little something in your stomach. I'm only going to lift it enough so you can eat without worrying about choking and spilling it all over yourself. Are you ready?" the nurse queried in a soft, pleasant voice.

Sam gazed up at her and nodded. The nurse smiled and reached down to the lowered railing then pushed the button to raise the head of the bed. Soon, Sam inclined enough to eat and drink, but not enough to put undo pressure on his lower spine. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, prompting Dean and John to jump to his side, their eyes wide with worry.

"Sammy…what's wrong? C'mon, kiddo," Dean queried as he took Sam's face in his hands.

"'m okay, Dean…just a little dizzy," Sam replied as he squinted his eyes open.

"That's to be expected with the change in positions after so long," the nurse said as she proceeded to take Sam's vitals.

The nurse smiled when she finished then moved the table over Sam's lap so that he could easily reach it when he wanted. "Just eat what you can, Sam. Try to take small bites and sips to make sure your stomach isn't overwhelmed."

Sam nodded and looked at the tray with distaste. The thought of eating made him sick to his stomach, but he knew he had to if he was going to get any strength back, and if he was going to get his family and friends to stop looking at him the way they were looking at him. He reached out and lifted the cup that he assumed held the broth and brought it to his lips. The nurse smiled then turned and left the room. Sam took a small sip of the hot broth and shivered at the taste. He lifted his eyes up over the rim of the cup and saw the other hunters watching him expectantly so he took another sip, lowered the cup and smiled.

"Mmmm…yummy," Sam said as he licked his lips.

Dean reached out and playfully slugged his arm as he chuckled lightly. "Yeah…right, Sammy," he said.

Sam shrugged his shoulders as he looked over at his brother. "It's not that bad," he said.

The other men laughed and it felt so good to be able to relax and laugh, even though they knew it wouldn't last. The reality of their situation would be there waiting for them when the laughter ended, but for right now, they'd take what they'd get.

"Uh, Dad, Dean?" Sam said suddenly, his gaze shifting from one Winchester to the other. "Maybe you guys should go get something to eat. Something more nutritious than vending machine stuff."

"Uh…nope, not leaving you Sammy," Dean said as he eyed his brother curiously.

"Well, its…um…" Sam stammered as he looked up at his family.

"What is it, Sam? What's wrong?" John asked.

"I…I need…I need to talk to Caleb…alone," Sam said as he dropped his eyes to his lap.

"What? Oh…uh…I don't know, Sam," John replied as he looked over at Caleb then back to his son.

"Please, Dad. You and Dean need to get out of this room and I need to talk to Caleb. Just go get something greasy to eat and then come back," Sam pleaded, his puppy dog eyes on full display as he peered between this father and brother.

John glanced across Sam at Dean and saw the 'no way' in Dean's eyes. He shook his head then looked back at Sam. "Okay, Sam, we'll…" he started.

"Dad! I'm not leaving Sammy," Dean cried, the young man squeezing Sam's hand until Sam hissed in pain. "Sorry," he said apologetically.

"It's okay, Dean. It's only for like an hour…please, I just need an hour," Sam said as he gazed up into Dean's green eyes.

Try as he might, Dean could not say no to his brother when he looked at him like that. He dropped his eyes as he fiddled with Sam's hand. "Okay…one hour, Sammy," he said as he lifted his eyes to meet his brother's once again.

* * *

Sam watched as the last of the men left his room, all except Caleb. He looked down at his lap as Caleb tentatively moved closer to his bed. Sam felt the mattress dip and he looked up to find the older hunter looking nervously at him. Caleb smiled as he fiddled with the blanket that covered Sam's legs.

"So, squirt…what did you want to talk about?" Caleb asked nervously.

Sam chewed on his bottom lip before he answered his friend. "I…uh…I'm sorry, Caleb. I…"

"No, Sammy…"

"I am…please, just let me say this," Sam said, his lower lip trembling as he appeared on the verge of tears.

"Okay, kiddo," Caleb said with a warm smile.

"I put you in a very difficult position. I was only thinking about myself and I wasn't a very good friend to you. I just…I needed to get away from them, just for awhile. If I went to Bobby's, it wouldn't take long before Dean talked Dad into coming to get me. I just needed some time, Caleb…time to prove to Dad that I could be the son he wanted, but I…I screwed that up royally and now I'll never have his approval," Sam said, a tear trickling down his cheek as he gazed forlornly at his friend.

"Ah, half pint. First of all, you don't need to win your daddy's approval. You already have it, whether you believe it or not. Second, I'm an adult. I should have acted like one. If I had, none of this would have happened," Caleb replied as he reached up to wipe the tear away from Sam's cheek with his thumb.

Sam shook his head, the boy looking even more miserable, if that was even possible. "No, Caleb. I knew you would never betray me and I took advantage of that. I manipulated you into telling me where you were and I came here without yours or Dad's permission. I don't deserve your kindness or your friendship. I wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to me again. I deserve no better," the boy said sadly.

Caleb leaned forward and took Sam's face in his hands. "You listen to me, Sam. You deserve nothing but the best that this world can offer. I am honored to be your friend and…and brother. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you and Dean in my life anymore. No, you weren't honest, but I understand why you did what you did. I just wish I could have kept this from happening to you," the older hunter said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Caleb…I…I was trying to…I…," Sam started, the boy unable to finish as a sob escaped his lips.

"Sammy? You were trying to what?" Caleb coaxed, his hand coming up to gently grasp Sam's forearm.

Sam rolled his head and tried as hard as he could to rein in his emotions. He gazed up at Caleb with so much sorrow, it broke the man's heart. "I wanted to die, Caleb. I came here hoping you were on a dangerous hunt so that I could…so that I…I didn't plan on making it out alive," the boy said in a voice just above a whisper.

Caleb's heart skipped a beat at his young friend's words. He squeezed Sam's arm as he tried to come up with the right words to say. He had no clue what to say to what Sam had confessed. He had suspected just what Sam had admitted to, but he had pushed the thoughts aside, the fear to great to even acknowledge that it could be true. Now, here it was staring him in the face and he was literally speechless. Finally, he looked into Sam's sad eyes and smiled. "Sam, do you even know how much it hurts to hear you say that? Do you realize what it would do to your family…to all of us if you died? Please tell me that you aren't thinking like that now. Please, Sammy…you have to know how much you're loved. You made the great John Winchester cry! Cry, Sammy. Real tears…not that fake crying you see on TV," Caleb said, joking in an attempt to break the overwhelming tension in the room.

Sam let a small smile curl the corners of his lips as he stared up at his friend. "I'm glad I didn't die and I'm sorry for what I did. I just…I wanted to prove to Dad that I had what it took to be a great hunter, but then on the way to Bobby's I realized that would never happen so…I just couldn't…"

"Hey, it's okay, half pint. As long as you've gotten that whole wanting to die crap out of your system, we can start to concentrate on getting those legs of yours working," Caleb said.

Sam dropped his head then peered up at Caleb through brown fringe. "Do you forgive me, Caleb?"

Caleb smiled and squeezed Sam's arm again. "There's nothing to forgive, squirt. Nothing at all. Now, how about you eat some of your jello then get some rest. I'll wake you when your dad and brother get back," Caleb replied.

"Not really hungry, Caleb…'m tired though," Sam said.

"Just a few bites, kiddo. You need to get something in you. Deal?"

Sam nodded and reached for the table then picked up the spoon that sat in the slowly liquefying jello. He took three bites then dropped the spoon to the plate. Caleb moved the table away then straightened the blanket over Sam. He stood from the bed then sat in the chair next to the bed. Sam's eyes were already beginning to droop and within minutes, the boy was sound asleep, his soft snores music to Caleb's ears. Caleb leaned back in the chair and watched over his young friend as he waited for the others to return. He imagined that Joshua and Bobby had gone to meet up with Pastor Jim at the motel so he figured he wouldn't be seeing them until dinnertime. Caleb dozed off and didn't awaken again until the door to the room opened. He peered at the door as Dean carefully eased into the room, the young man's eyes immediately finding his brother before turning to Caleb and nodding.

Caleb stood as Dean approached and he reached out for his friend's hand. "Where's the old man?" he asked as Dean turned his eyes back to his sleeping brother.

"He said he had some errands to run," Dean said with a hint of anger. The young man moved to sit on the edge of Sam's bed. He reached up and brushed the hair from the boy's eyes as he smiled affectionately down at him.

"Oh, uh…I…" Caleb began.

"What did Sammy say?" Dean interrupted.

"He…he apologized to me. Didn't have to, but he said he felt he needed to. Then he fell asleep. Poor kid is exhausted," Caleb answered.

"Yeah, being nearly drained by blood suckers will do that to you. He didn't say anything else? Nothing at all?" Dean queried as he looked at Caleb out of the corner of his eye.

"Uh…I think it's up to Sam to tell you what he feels comfortable with. He's okay though, Dean…for the most part," Caleb replied.

Dean lowered his eyes and nodded. "Do you think I could have some time alone with him. I haven't had the chance since they released me," he asked of his friend.

"Sure. I guess I could go down to the giftshop. The clerk is so frickin' hot!" Caleb replied.

Dean chuckled as he looked at his friend. "You go get her, tiger!" he quipped.

"Yeah…you're just jealous 'cause she was making the doe eyes at me and not you," Caleb said.

"The only reason why she likes you is because she hasn't seen me and all the gloriousness that is me," Dean chirped.

"Yeah, keep dreaming kidling," Caleb said as he moved across the room and slipped through the door.

"Jerk," Dean whispered as he turned his attention back to his brother. He flinched a bit when he saw hazel eyes peering back up at him. "Hey…Sammy, you're awake."

"Yeah…hey," Sam said softly.

"Hey. How you doing?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Good…that's good," Dean said.

"Uh…where's Dad?" Sam queried.

"He had some things to take care of. He'll be back soon," Dean answered.

"Oh…I understand. He…"

"No, Sammy…he just had some errands, that's all," Dean said evenly, hoping to hide his own anger at their father.

"Dean…it's okay. He's been stuck in this room with me for days. He's been really great, but he needs a break. I get it," Sam said softly.

"Sammy, he didn't even want to leave you. I don't know what he's doing, but he'll be back as soon as he can. Don't read anything into it, okay?"

Sam pursed his lips and looked up at his brother. "Yeah…okay," he whispered.

"So, what did you and Caleb talk about?" Dean asked curiously.

"Uh, I just wanted to tell him I was sorry for getting him into trouble and all. I feel bad that he blames himself for my screw up," Sam answered.

"Sammy…"

"It's okay, Dean. We talked it all out. We're good."

"Sam, I'm your brother. You can talk to me. Please, kiddo."

Sam gazed up at his brother and swallowed nervously. "Dean, I don't want you to hate me. And you will, if I tell you, you will and I just don't think I could take it," he cried as he reached out and grasped his brothers hand like it was a life preserver.

"Sammy, I could never hate you. Not in a million years…not ever. You mean everything to me…you can tell me anything," Dean said as he laid his hand over Sam's.

Sam looked down and nodded. He glanced back up and bit at his lip. "Uh…when I…I got in Caleb's rig…I knew they were going to hunt the vamps," he said.

"Yeah, I know that, Sammy…"

"I wanted to die, Dean," Sam blurted as tears began to stream down his cheeks.

"Wh-what? Don't say that, Sammy," Dean said, his voice filled with fear and shock.

"It's true. I thought Dad hated me. I thought maybe you did too, to some extent. I couldn't live with that, Dean. I just couldn't…"

"Sam, you know that we don't hate you, right? I mean, that whole heart to heart with Dad?"

"Yeah, I know…now. I guess I knew then. I don't know, maybe it's because I hated myself. I just…I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry I scared you. I'm sorry I messed things up with you and Dad."

"You didn't screw anything up with Dad and me, Sammy."

"Dean? Is Dad coming back?" Sam asked nervously.

"Of course he is. I told you, Sammy. He should be getting here anytime."

"Yeah…okay," Sam said with a yawn.

"Hey…why don't you get some more sleep, Sammy. I'll wake you up when Dad get here," Dean said.

"Yeah…maybe for a few minutes," Sam answered sleepily.

Dean watched as Sam's eyes closed and when the kid's breathing evened out, he reached out and brushed his fingers over Sam's cheek. "What am I gonna do with you, Sammy?" he whispered sadly as he watched his brother sleep.

* * *

**So, just a bit of fluff and a smidgen of angst. Hope you will let me know what you thought.**

**Cindy**


	28. Chapter 28

**I'm back. Finally! So, where did John go? Is he coming back? Is Dean pissed? Read on to find out.**

**Cindy**

* * *

Dean glanced at the watch on his wrist for probably the fiftieth time then looked at the door and shook his head in anger. He turned to look at his sleeping brother, sadness filling his green eyes. The poor kid had woken up twice, both times asking if his father had returned and both times being disappointed when Dean had to tell him no. Dean could see the hurt in his brother's eyes and it tore him up that he couldn't do anything to make that hurt go away. The anger continued to grow in him until his whole body trembled and his fingers clenched into tight fists. He paced the floor at the end of Sam's bed, ignoring the man who sat silently in the chair next to the bed.

Caleb had come back after giving the Winchester brothers a few hours together and refused to leave as Dean became more and more agitated. Caleb couldn't blame his friend for being angry. He himself couldn't understand why John would leave for such a long length of time after he was finally starting to make progress with earning back Sam's trust. Sure, six hours wasn't really that long, but in this situation it might as well have been days. To see the look on Sam's face when he'd been told yet again that John hadn't returned was absolutely heartbreaking.

"Where the hell is that son of a bitch!" Dean hissed suddenly as he glared at his watch yet again.

"Dean…you'll wake Sam," Caleb said, the older hunter rising from his chair and making his way to his friends side.

Dean glanced over at Sam and dropped his eyes. He brushed his hand through his spiked hair and gazed up at Caleb. "God, Caleb…what if he left? How could he do that?"

"He didn't leave, Dean. He wouldn't do that…not now. Not after everything that's happened," Caleb said quietly.

"How do you know that? Maybe he left because of everything that's happened," Dean said in reply, his eyes glancing down at his watch.

"No…your daddy will be here. There's got to be an explanation. He wouldn't do that to Sam," Caleb said, hoping that he was right and that John hadn't skipped out on them.

"I don't know," Dean started, his words cut off as the door to Sam's room opened and John slipped inside, and apologetic look on his tired face.

Dean was in the man's face before John had taken three steps, the young man pushing the older up against the wall, his face pushed right up until their noses nearly touched. "Where the hell have you been!?" he hissed as he roughly gripped Johns jacket.

John glared at his son then took a deep breath. "My errand took longer than I expected. I had to go to Albuquerque," John said in reply.

"Albuquerque? Why would you have to go there, Dad? Sammy thought you weren't coming back!" Dean spat as he let go of his father and stepped back.

John's eyes widened and he immediately made his way over to Sam's bed. He reached down and brushed a stray strand of hair from Sam's eyes as he smiled warmly at the sleeping boy. "Aw, Sammy…I'm sorry, kiddo," he whispered then he looked up at the two men who watched his every move.

"I thought I'd be back before now, but I couldn't find everything I needed. I had to go to Albuquerque…"

"D'd?" a sleepy voice whispered and the three man turned their attention to the boy lying in the bed.

"Hey, squirt," John said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"You came back," Sam said, his hazel eyes gazing up into his father's face.

"Of course I came back. I'm sorry it took a little bit longer than I expected," John replied as he took Sam's hand into his.

"Where…"

"I had some things I needed to find, just couldn't find them all here. I'm really sorry, Sam…I didn't think it would take as long as it did," John said with a warm smile as he brought his other hand up and placed a paper bag in Sam's lap.

Dean and Caleb moved up to the bed and eyed the bag curiously. Sam looked at the bag then back up at his father. "What's this?" he asked softly.

"Open it and find out," John replied.

Sam glanced up at his brother, who shrugged his shoulders, then he reached for the bag. He pulled the bag open and peered inside, the boy's breath hitching as he looked back up at his father. "Dad…where did you…I…," he stammered before peering into the bag again.

John chuckled as he gazed down at his baby. "It was harder than it should have been to find them, that's for sure," the man said around the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Sammy…what is it?" Dean queried as he moved closer to the bed.

Sam reached into the bag and pulled out the first item. "Crime and Punishment," Sam whispered as he ran his fingers over the worn cover of the book. He reached in again and pulled out Moby Dick, then The Last of the Mohicans. "You…you replaced my books? Dad, I…I don't know what to say," he said in a small, shaky voice.

"You don't need to say anything, kiddo. I know how much those books meant to you. I'm sorry you felt the need to burn your other ones. I know these ones aren't quite the same, but…"

"No…they're perfect, Dad. I…thank you…thank you so much," Sam said as tears filled his hazel eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

John reached up and cupped Sam's cheek, his thumb tenderly brushing the tears away. "Sam, I know that these books don't make up for everything that I've done…for the way I've been, but I just want you to know that I truly am sorry and that I love you so much."

"Dad…I can't believe you did this. I…I know you love me…I know that now. I love you too…so much. You and Dean are everything to me and I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for scaring you both. I'm sorry for everything," Sam cried softly, his tears beginning in earnest again.

"Sammy…what you did…taking off like that? We were terrified that something had happened to you…that someone had taken you, but you don't have anything to apologize for…"

"But, Dad…I ran away…I lied to you…"

"You never should have been put in that situation to begin with. I'm just saying that what you did was wrong, but I should have never let you get on that bus by yourself to begin with. I was so eager to make you see that I could let you do what you wanted that I never realized that you would see it as me wanting to get rid of you. You wanted me to say no. You wanted…needed me to make you stay, but I didn't do that and you thought that meant I didn't really want you around. Right?" John explained, his thumb still tenderly caressing Sam's cheek.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned into his father's touch, the teen relishing in the attention he had craved for so long. He finally opened his eyes and gazed up into his father's dark ones. He nodded his head as he bit at his lower lip. "I thought…when you let me go…I thought you were getting your wish. I didn't think you'd look for me, but you did. You did…you and Dean. You came for me and Caleb…"

John leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss against Sam's forehead then he sat up again and glanced up at his eldest son who stood to his side, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Of course we would look for you, kiddo. You're our Sammy…we wouldn't be a family without you."

Sam smiled as he shifted his gaze between his father, brother and friend. His eyes began to slowly droop and the three older hunters knew it would only take a few moments before the boy was sound asleep. True to their predictions, Sam's eyes slid shut and soon he was softly snoring, his hands clutching the books that his father had given him. John stood from the bed, not in the least bit surprised when Dean immediately took his spot next to Sam's side. He stretched his back and grunted as his spine popped. Dean looked up at him and smiled then turned his attention back to his brother. He tried to pry the books from Sam's hands, but the boy, even in sleep was not going to let them go.

"So, where'd you get the idea to find the books that Sam had burned?" Dean asked as he gazed once more up at his father.

John took a seat in the chair next to the bed and stretched out his legs. "There was a used bookstore across the street from the diner we ate at. I knew how much those books meant to the kid, so I decided to drive you back here then go find them, but they didn't have Moby Dick…not in paperback at least. The lady there suggested a bookstore in Albuquerque. I really didn't think it'd take as long as it did. It's only about sixty miles away, but finding the bookstore wasn't as easy as it should have been…"

"Dad…its okay. You did good. You did really good," Dean said as he smiled down at his father.

"Yeah?" John said in reply.

"Yeah…you did."

"I'm proud of you old man," Caleb said as he moved to the other side of the bed and took a seat.

"Hey, who you calling old?" John shot as he glared over at his younger friend.

"You're older than me, therefore you're old," Caleb quipped as he stretched his feet out before him, much the same as John. He crossed his arms across his stomach and closed his eyes, a smile curling the corners of his lips. Soon, he too was snoring, leaving the two Winchester men to watch in silent amusement as tiny spit bubbles formed between his lips.

"Dean, why don't you get some sleep. I'll watch over Sammy," John said as he settled into the chair.

"You sure?" Dean asked from his perch next to Sam's hip.

"Yeah. Take the car and go to the motel…"

"Not gonna happen. I'll just sleep here," Dean said with a raised eyebrow.

John shook his head and watched as his eldest son carefully eased down to the bottom of the bed and curled up with his back pressed against the footboard. Dean was asleep in minutes, the young man obviously exhausted. John gazed for a long time at his eldest, smiling fondly at the young man. He was so proud of his son. He knew he never had to worry about whether Dean would be there for his younger brother. It was a given. Dean would walk through fire to protect his brother and John realized that Sam would do the same. He had two wonderful sons. Two wonderfully unique sons and he was through trying to mold them into what he thought they needed to be. It was high time they were allowed to be who they were always meant to be. He had a suspicion that Dean would pretty much be the same, as he'd never had to do much to change him. Dean had a natural love for the hunt. A hunger, just like John. Sam didn't and it was time to stop punishing him for being different from them. It was time to embrace him for who he was, just as he would embrace Dean for who he was too.

John smiled as he leaned back in the chair. He rolled his head to the side until his eyes landed on his baby boy's angelic face. The kid looked so much younger when he was sleeping and it made John's heart ache to watch him. It hurt to see the still healing bruises and cuts that marred that wonderfully expressive face and John felt renewed hatred of the creatures who had caused his son so much pain. He shook his head of the thoughts. The vampires were dead. He had his son back and there was only one more thing that needed to be done. He needed to get his baby back on his feet and walking and he would do everything in his power to make sure that happened. Sam deserved no less, and neither did Dean.

* * *

Dean was dreaming. It wasn't the same dream he'd been having for the past several days. Not the dream where Sam was ripped apart by sharp teeth, his blood drained from his body, large eyes pleading with his brother to save him. No, Sam wasn't even in this dream. There was only Dean and one other person. Amanda Bedford. Now, Dean never remembered Amanda Bedford being quite this…naughty, but boy was he enjoying it. He never imagined that her fingers could be so magic and he just lay there and allowed those fingers to do whatever they wanted. Suddenly, Dean felt a soft poking in his ribs and he opened his eyes to stare up into the blonde girls smiling face.

"D'ja just poke me?" he asked lazily, his eyes narrowing a bit when the poke came again.

"No darlin'…not poking you. Do just about everything else, but not poking," Amanda replied before leaning over to take Dean's mouth with hers.

Dean forgot about the poke and returned the kiss, the young man moaning lightly the girls tongue explored his mouth.

"D'n…ow…" followed by another poke.

Dean pushed the girl off of him and sat up. That was Sam's voice. Sleepy, annoyed, pained. "Sammy?" he called as he gazed around the room that he and Amanda were occupying. His brother was nowhere to be seen and Dean felt a sudden panic build up in him. "Sammy! Where are you?" he screamed as he jumped up from the bed.

"Come back to bed, loverboy…I'm not through with you yet," Amanda called, but when Dean turned to the girl, it was no longer the pretty blonde girl he'd met his last year of highschool. Now, the woman who occupied the bed was the vampire bitch who had tried to molest Sammy. The bitch who had drank his brother's blood.

"D'n…hurts…" Sam's voice came again and at that moment, Dean lost it.

Dean lunged for the vampire in the bed then…his eyes came open and he felt the poke in his ribs again. Soft, no strength, but a poke nonetheless. He sat up and turned to peer up at his slowly stirring brother. He smiled as Sam's eyes came open and stared down at him.

"You okay, Sammy? Thought I heard you say something hurt," Dean said as he continued to gaze up into soft, hazel eyes.

"Uh…you're on my foot…hurts," Sam said sleepily as he reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Huh? Oh…sorry," Dean said as he realized that in his sleep, he had rolled over onto Sam's feet.

"'s'kay, Dean," Sam replied with a small smile.

Dean sat up and began to rub Sam's foot. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he jumped up from the bed, his movements awakening the other two men in the room.

"Dean…what the hell?" Caleb said huskily as he stared over at his young friend.

"Sammy…can you feel this?" Dean said as he squeezed Sam's foot, ignoring the others as his attention was fully on his little brother.

Sam gazed at Dean quizzically before reality finally dawned on him. "Yeah…I can feel it! I can feel it, Dean!" he cried, his eyes filled with wonder as Dean's face was split by the widest grin he'd ever seen.

John jumped up from the chair he had fallen asleep in and pulled the blanket over to reveal one of Sam's legs. He pinched a small area of skin and looked up at his baby boy. "You feel that?" he asked with hope in his voice.

"Yes…and…ow!" Sam replied, his grin widening at the apologetic look on his father's face.

"I'll get the doctor!" Caleb called excitedly as he rushed for the door, the man disappearing, leaving the Winchesters to themselves for a few minutes.

"I told you, Sammy! I told you you'd walk again!" Dean cried happily as he moved up around the bed and took his brother's hand.

"Not walking yet, Dean," Sam said as his smile faded a bit.

"No…not yet, Sam, but this is a great beginning," John started as he pulled the blanket back over Sam's leg and sat next to his son.

"You think so, Dad? Do you really think so?" Sam asked as he gazed hopefully up at his father.

"I know so, Sammy…I know so," John replied with a bright smile.

* * *

**There you go. Will really try to get the next chapter up quicker than this one. Let me know what you think. Please.**

**Cindy**


	29. Chapter 29

**Short update for you guys. A little more family love in this one. We'll get into Sam's rehab in the next chapter, and you can bet Dean won't be any place but with his brother. Hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

****

Dr. Henderson turned from the Sam's bed and smiled at the three men who stood expectantly nearby. "Well, Sam definitely has regained some feeling in his feet and legs. The anti-inflammatory we gave him when he was first brought in has definitely done its job. Making sure the patient has the corticosteroids for the first 24-48 hours is key to getting the swelling down to avoid further damage to the spine and it looks like we've been extremely lucky with Sam," the doctor said as he gazed at each man before him.

"So, does that mean he's going to be walking again?" Dean queried, his green eyes moving from the doctor to his little brother who lay silently in the bed.

"I'd say I am extremely optimistic at this point. I want to get Sam up and used to being in a wheelchair to begin with…"

"What? No…I can't…" Sam started, his wide hazel eyes staring up at his brother as Dean immediately moved toward the bed at hearing the distress in his baby brother's voice.

John stepped toward the bed and moved around Dr. Henderson as the man turned to look at Sam. "Sam, the only way you're going to be able to get around for awhile is by using a wheelchair. It's okay, son…it'll only be temporary," John said as he moved to stand next to Dean, who had seated himself on Sam's bed next to the younger brother's hip.

"People see someone in a wheelchair and they think they're a cripple. I'm not a cripple!" Sam cried as he stared pleadingly up at his father.

"Nobody said you were a cripple, Sam. Nowhere near that, but you have to understand your limitations at this particular point. It's going to take a lot of hard work on your part, but I'm very optimistic that you will not need the wheelchair on a permanent basis," Dr. Henderson said, smiling when Sam looked up at him.

"When will Sam start his physical therapy?" Caleb asked as he moved around to the other side of the bed.

"Well, I'd like to get him started as soon as possible. The sooner we get him up and using his muscles, the less chance there'll be of muscle atrophy and spasms. We have to be very careful with his injury though. We don't want to start anything too strenuous if there's a chance of hurting him further," Dr. Henderson responded.

"You hear that, Sammy? You're gonna be up on your feet in no time," Dean said excitedly, his hand reaching out to give Sam's forearm a gentle squeeze.

Sam smiled up at his brother then opened his mouth in a wide yawn. John moved closer to the bed and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Get some sleep, Sam. You need as much rest as possible. We'll be right here when you wake up," he said as he gazed down at his youngest son.

"'m okay, Dad. Not really tired," Sam said, the boy lifting his hand to stifle another yawn.

"Yeah, right, half pint," Caleb quipped from the other side of the bed. "You can hardly keep your eyes open."

Sam rolled his head and gazed up at his friend. "Not a half pint and not tired," he said grumpily as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Hmmm…grouchy much?" Caleb said with a chuckle as he reached out to ruffle Sam's hair.

Sam jerked his head away then stuck his tongue out at the grinning hunter. He yawned again and fought to keep his suddenly heavy eyelids open. The other's in the room watched in amused affection as the teen lost his battle to stay awake, his eyes closing and his breath evening out into soft snores. Dean stood then pulled the blanket up and over Sam's arms before turning toward John.

"You can go out and talk to the doc. I'll stay here with Sammy," he said in a hushed voice.

John glanced down at his sleeping son then turned his gaze back onto Dean. He nodded before following Caleb and the doctor out of the room. Dean took a seat in the chair next to the bed, reached for the TV remote and turned the television on, keeping the sound down low to avoid waking his brother up. His eyes were on the TV screen, but his mind was miles away, thinking about the long road ahead that his brother had to travel. At least Sam wouldn't have to travel that road alone. Dean would be there every step of the way, as would the others. The kid would have every bit of help that he would need to recover, first here at the hospital then at Pastor Jim's. Dean turned to look at his brother and smiled. Things were finally looking up and Dean felt like he was getting his Sammy back. He relaxed back in his chair and turned his attention back to the television. Within minutes, his own eyes began to droop and soon both Winchester brothers were sound asleep. A half hour later, that's exactly how John found his sons, both snoring away, their heads naturally turned towards each other, in tune with each other, even in sleep.

John smiled and retrieved the extra blanket from the cabinet next to the bathroom door and draped it over his eldest son. He moved around the bed and moved the chair there closer to the edge of the bed. He took a seat, the man reaching up and taking his youngest's hand into his own. Tomorrow would be the start of a long, hard journey for all of them so tonight, they'd rest and just be together. John had no illusions that it was going to be an easy ride, but he was prepared to do whatever needed to be done to keep Sam moving forward and to keep him as positive as possible. He owed his baby that. He owed Dean that. His eldest had been through so much himself. Putting up with the constant fighting, being in the middle of the many battles. It was time for John to be the father and relieve Dean of that burden. He glanced over at his eldest, his heart swelling with pride. He knew that Dean would keep Sam's spirits up. If anyone could get Sam walking again, it was Dean. John turned his head again and settled in, content to listen to the sounds of his sleeping sons and sure in his belief that Sam would walk again.

* * *

"Just hold on, Sammy. Let us do the work," John said as he pulled Sam's arm up over his shoulders. He grasped Sam's hand with his other hand then snaked his arm around Sam's waist. Sam glanced nervously over to his father then turned his eyes forward and looked up at his brother who stood in front of he and his father. John slowly stood, carefully bringing his youngest son up with him. Dean reached out and took Sam's other arm and together, he and John maneuvered Sam until he was in front of the wheelchair that the morning nurse had brought into the room. The two men eased Sam into the chair, the nurse and a male orderly watching closely to make sure they positioned him correctly. Once Sam was safely seated in the wheelchair, Dean retrieved the blanket that he had used to cover himself during the night and tucked it over Sam's legs.

"You ready to take a spin around the ward, Sammy?" Dean asked as he knelt down and placed Sam's feet on the footrests.

Sam gazed down at him and nodded slightly. "I guess," he said softly, but his voice lack any kind of enthusiasm.

"Hey, kiddo…it's going to be okay. This is just for the time being," John said as he grasped Sam's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Sam glanced up at his father through his too long hair and bit at his lip. "I know…I'm sorry. I just…I wish I could just get up and walk," he said glumly.

"I know you do. We all wish that, but for right now, this is how you're going to be getting around. Dr. Henderson wants you to get used to sitting up, but remember to let us know if you start having any pain. You start your physical therapy the day after tomorrow, so today and tomorrow is for getting up and out of this room, getting used to the change in altitude," John said as he smile down at his son.

Sam nodded then dropped his eyes to his lap. Dean patted his knee and smiled when hazel eyes glanced up at him. "Hey, don't do that, Sammy. We're all in this together, okay? I'm going to be with you every step of the way, so don't act like you're on your own," he said, the older brother smiling when Sam shot him a dimpled grin.

John watched his boys then moved around the chair when he saw Sam's grin. "Okay, so let's go for a spin, shall we?" he said as he grasped the grips and began to push Sam toward the door.

Dean walked just ahead of the chair as he led the way through the door that the orderly was holding open for them. When the orderly stayed with them as they made their way down the hall, Dean turned towards him and frowned slightly. "Uh…we can take it from here, Carl. Thanks for your help," he said rather shortly.

"I'm really supposed to stay with you, just to make sure that you're handling Sam right," Carl replied as he looked to John for help.

John glanced over at him and grinned. "You won't win this one, Carl. We've been taking care of the kid his whole life. I think we know what we're doing," he said gruffly.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Carl, we really have it okay?" Dean interrupted.

"But…"

Sam glanced over at the orderly and shook his head. "You may as well just give up. You won't get near me, so unless you want to just follow us around like a lost puppy, you're wasting your time," he said as he gave the orderly a sympathetic smile.

Carl glanced between the two men and the boy then sighed as he realized that the kid was right. "Just…don't take him outside. Dr. Henderson…"

"We know. Sam's lungs sound a little congested. We aren't taking him outside…just around the ward and maybe down to the atrium," John said in reply.

"Uh…okay, yeah…I'll just be…"

"See you, Carl," Dean said with a shake of his head. "Sorry, but we really have this all covered."

Carl nodded then turned and walked away, the man muttering under his breath as he made his way down the hall. Dean chuckled as he watched the man walk away then turned and followed alongside as John pushed Sam down the hallway.

"So, Sammy…you glad to be out of that bed?" Dean asked as he glanced down at his quiet little brother.

"Uh…well, I'm just glad to have the catheter out to tell you the truth," Sam said, the boy shooting his brother an embarrassed grin as he looked up at him.

Both Dean and John laughed at that, sympathizing with the boy. "Can't blame you there, kiddo," John said.

The three continued down the hall, finally ending up at the atrium near the cafeteria. John wheeled Sam so that he was near the plate glass window and could see outside then locked the wheels down. He pulled a chair up and sat down next to his son. Dean grabbed another chair and pulled it up in front of Sam. The three sat in silence for quite sometime, Sam spending most of the time staring out into the garden beyond the window. Dean noticed with concern that every time someone would walk by and glance at the trio, Sam would drop his head and turn his eyes away as if ashamed. The boy had eventually taken to staring out the window to apparently avoid the curious looks of passersby.

"Hey, you doing okay, kiddo?" Dean asked as he reached out to gently turn Sam's face toward him.

Sam shrugged his shoulders as he glanced at his brother. "Everybody's looking at me. They feel sorry for me," he said sadly.

John grasped Sam's arm and squeezed gently. "No they don't, Sam, and even if they do, that's their problem. Don't worry about those people, okay? We're here and that's all you need to know," he said softly.

Sam bit his bottom lip and nodded. "Yeah…okay. Uh…I'm kinda tired. Can we go back now?" he said as he looked over at his father.

"Sure, Sammy. Why didn't you say something?" John asked as he stood from the chair.

"I was okay until just a few minutes ago. Sorry," Sam replied.

"Don't worry about it. The doc says you'll tire easily for awhile. We can head back," Dean said as he moved around Sam this time and took control of his wheelchair.

Thirty minutes later found them back in Sam's room, the boy tucked back into bed and dozing peacefully. Caleb, Bobby, Joshua and Jim had shown up sometime after the three had left the room and had been waiting for them when they returned. The men talked quietly amongst themselves, except for Dean who was in his usual spot next to Sam's bed, watching over the sleeping teen. Dean had no idea what they were talking about, but he really didn't care either. His only concern was the boy sleeping in the bed. He glanced to his left and noticed the books that John had found for Sam piled on the table next to his bed. He reached over and grabbed the top book, turning it over so he could look at the cover.

"Last of the Mohicans," he whispered, his green eyes moving to his brother's sleeping form before moving back to the book. "Geez, what a geek."

Dean replaced the book on the pile and returned his attention back to his brother. He reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair away from Sam's eyes and smiled sadly. "I wish I could replace your awards and friends book, Sammy. I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish I would have said something to you…apologized back in Oregon," he whispered, his fingers lingering in Sam's hair.

"I wish that too, Dean," John said as he pulled a chair up next to Dean's.

Dean glanced over at his father and smiled sadly. "He's still so depressed, Dad. I thought getting out of this room would do him some good, but it didn't. If anything, it made him worse," he said.

"He'll be fine. Once he starts physical therapy, he'll be much better. Sam needs to be doing something. You know your brother. He'll be fine once he's doing something positive towards his recovery," John replied, the man smiling as he glanced over at his youngest son.

"Yeah…he's an amazing kid, you know?" Dean said affectionately.

John nodded then turned his attention to his oldest son. "So are you, Dean," he said, his large hand squeezing Dean's shoulder.

Dean's eyes widened with the unexpected praise before he frowned at his father. "Hey! I ain't no kid," he cried indignantly.

John chuckled as he clapped the young man on the shoulder. Dean glared at his father, but couldn't keep the smile from his lips as the other men in the room chuckled behind him. He turned around and growled at his friends. "Shut up," he groused under his breath as he turned back to gaze at his brother, a grin brightening his otherwise haggard features.

"You all need to shut up," Sam whispered from the bed, his lips curling at the corners as he cracked open his eyes and gazed sleepily at the men. "Some of us are trying to sleep, you know."

Sam fell back to sleep with the sound of soft laughter filling the room. He smiled as he slipped away, his family and friends ecstatic to see a bit of the old Sam finally making an appearance.

Dean reached out and straightened the blankets over Sam, his hand pausing for a moment on the teen's chest. "Sleep, you little sh*thead," he whispered softly, a single tear making it's way down his cheek.

* * *

**So, I hope it wasn't too boring. Please let me know. Happy Thanksgiving!**

**Cindy**


	30. Chapter 30

**So sorry for the delay on this chapter. Real life has kind of kicked my butt this past week. I have been working on this every night, but just couldn't get it right. I want to thank all of you for your comments and reviews. They are what keep me going. So, on with the story.**

**Cindy**

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

"That's good, Sam…you're doing really good," Candace, Sam's physical therapist said as she trailed behind the teen, her hands ready to catch him should he stumble.

Sam grunted as he scooted one hand forward on the bar he held then grimaced as he dragged his right foot forward with great effort. He glanced up to see Dean waiting for him at the end of the parallel bars he was slowly moving across, his brother's face filled with encouragement. Sam moved his other hand forward on the opposite bar then dragged his left foot forward, completing the next step in a seemingly impossible journey. Sweat trickled down his back from the exertion as exhaustion began to pull at him. His arms trembled as he held himself up, the braces on his legs helping somewhat, but the majority of his stability dependent on his arm strength.

"You're almost there, Sammy…don't give up now," Dean called, the young man wanting nothing more than to rush down between the bars and take his struggling brother into his arms.

"I can't do it, Dean…" Sam panted as he dragged his right foot forward again. "My arms…can't hold…me up…anymore…"

"No, Sam…you can do it! You're strong…you can do this…I know you can do it," Dean replied as he moved a step toward his brother, just in case.

"I can't…please, Dean…please," Sam pleaded, tears of exhaustion and pain trailing down his cheeks, his body shaking as he pushed himself to the limit.

"I know it's hard…I know it hurts, but Sammy…you're the strongest person I know. If anyone can do this…you can. You've come so far, kiddo…just a little bit more…all you have to do is make it to the end and then you can get out of this joint," Dean encouraged, his hands reaching out to his brother.

"He's right, Sam. You make it to the end and Dr. Henderson is going to cut you loose. Your brother has been here every step of the way and knows just what to do to continue your therapy, but you have to make it to the end first…all on your own," Candace said from behind the teenager, her hand coming to rest on the small of Sam's back.

Sam took a deep breath, pulled himself up straight and scooted his hand forward on the bar. His left foot moved forward, the boy panting with the effort of that normally easy task. He looked up into this brother's eyes, wanting nothing more than to get to the end of the bars. He dragged his right foot forward at the same time he moved his hand along the bar, the teen suddenly stumbling at the awkward position this put his body in.

"Sam!" Dean cried as he lunged forward, catching his brother before the boy could fall to the floor. He looked up in appreciation at Candace when he saw her arm wrapped around Sam's middle.

"Dammit! I told you…I can't do it! I'm too weak," Sam cried, his hands grasping Dean's arms as he was pulled up into his brother's arms.

"No, Sam…you're not weak. You're just tired. You've had a long session today," Candace said as she walked behind the teen, her hands on Sam's shoulders as she help Dean guide his brother down the length of the bars and to his wheelchair.

"I should be walking by now…I should…"

"You're a lot further along than Dr. Henderson expected you to be, Sammy. You're doing so good…" Dean started as he eased Sam into his chair and began to position his feet on the footrests, the young man smiling up at Candace as she moved away to give the brothers some privacy.

"I can't stand this, Dean! This chair…this place? I just feel so useless…can't hunt…can't…"

"You know Dad doesn't care about that now, Sammy. He just wants you to get better," Dean interrupted, his hand gently squeezing Sam's knee.

"But I'm not…I'm still stuck in this chair…I'm still in this hospital," Sam cried softly, his eyes moving past Dean to stare at the wall behind him.

"Sammy, it's okay…"

"No it isn't. How much longer do you think it's gonna take until they figure out our insurance is a sham? And Dad? Do you really think he wants to give up hunting? I know what he said, but I don't want him to give it up, Dean. He shouldn't have to. Not for me," Sam said as he dropped his chin to his chest.

Dean reached up and gently lifted Sam's face. "You listen to me, Sam. First of all, Joshua is taking care of the hospital bill, so don't worry about that…"

"But, Dean…he…"

"Is loaded…his family was rich. Anyway…if you think you aren't worth giving up hunting for, then you better think again," Dean said, his eyebrow arching to emphasis just how serious he was.

"I don't want him to though. Not for good, Dean. All those people out there…they need him. They need both of you…whether I can walk or not."

"Sam…"

"I have to walk again, Dean. I don't want you guys to give up hunting, but I don't want to be left behind either. I just don't…I don't know if it's going to happen," Sam cried, the lost look in his eyes breaking his brother's heart.

Dean leaned forward took Sam's face in his hands. "You are going to walk again. I know you are. And Sammy? You'll never be left behind…ever!" he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Sam gazed into his brother's eyes, his own hazel orbs brimming with tears. He so wanted to believe Dean's words. He wanted to believe that he would walk again, but after nearly two weeks of intense physical therapy, he still couldn't make it to the end of the bars. His legs were nearly as useless now as they had been when he first began therapy. He had almost all of the feeling back in them, but his strength hadn't returned as his doctor and family had hoped it would. He had worked for as long as Dr. Henderson allowed each day, but still his legs wouldn't hold him up.

"Dean…I…"

"Sammy, we just need to get you to the end of that bar then you're out of here. Don't think about anything but that. Once we're at Pastor Jim's, we'll get you walking again…I promise. Just get to the end of the bars…tomorrow, you're going to do it, okay?" Dean said, his hands moving from Sam's face to take the teen by the shoulders.

Sam watched his brother then nodded, the teen putting his full trust in the older hunter. If Dean said that he would walk again, Sam knew that the young man would do everything in his power to make that happen. "Okay, Dean…okay," he said softly.

Dean smiled and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Okay then…let's get you back to your room before Dad and the others start freaking out," he said as he stood and moved behind Sam.

Dean grasped the handholds and began to push Sam out of the physical therapy room then turned down the hall toward Sam's ward. Five minutes later and Dean was rolling Sam into his room, biting his lip and shaking his head as his father and the others gazed at him questioningly. John dropped his eyes, but for only a moment, the man not wanting his youngest to see anything that could be misconstrued as disappointment. Sam was hanging by a fraying thread and each day that passed without the teen making progress caused one more fiber of that thread to break. Sam was way harder on himself than any of them could ever be, the boy barely giving himself any leeway whatsoever.

"You look tired, Sammy…how'd it go today?" John asked as he helped Dean lift the youngest Winchester from the wheelchair and lower him into this bed.

Sam looked up at his father and let out a heavy sigh. "I didn't make it, if that's what you're wondering," Sam replied, his voice filled with defeat.

"Sammy…we talked about this," Dean said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I know…it's just so frustrating," Sam said, the teen rolling his head to the side to look up at his father.

"Sam…it's going to take time. You have to give yourself a break here, kiddo," John said as he stared down at his son.

"I just want to walk again, Dad. I hate this! I hate it so much," Sam cried, his hands coming up from the bed, only to drop back down as Sam voiced his frustration.

"Hey, half pint," Caleb said as he moved across the room and stood at the end of the bed. He smiled when Sam rolled his head and gazed down the length of the bed at him. "Maybe all you need is to get out of this place. I think once you're someplace more familiar and…pleasant…it'll do wonders," he continued, the man reaching down and squeezing Sam's foot.

"But I can't get out of here until I make it all the way down the bars, Caleb and I'm just too weak…"

"Hey…remember, Sammy…tomorrow," Dean said as he nudged Sam's arm to get the kid's attention. "Tomorrow, you're going to make it down those bars."

Sam glanced over at his brother and gave a little smile. "I hope so, Dean," he said softly.

"You are, Sam…no doubt in my mind," Dean replied enthusiastically.

"Your brother's right, squirt," Bobby said gruffly from where he stood near the window.

"Yeah…we know you can do it," Joshua added.

"See, Sammy…we all have faith in you. Now, all you need is to have faith in yourself," John said, his dark eyes gazing down at his baby, the man wishing he could just make everything alright for the kid again.

Sam glanced from one man to the next until his gaze landed on his brother. He smiled softly and reached for Dean's hand, which the older sibling offered freely. "Well then, I guess I better kick it up a notch, huh?" he replied, a slight lilt to his voice.

"That's the spirit," Dean said as he gently squeezed the hand he held.

John reached down and brushed the hair from Sam's forehead with his fingers. "Why don't you rest for a bit, kiddo. We're going to go get some lunch," he said, chuckling a bit when he saw Dean raise an eyebrow as if he thought his father had lost his mind. "All of us except Dean of course. We wouldn't be able to pry him away from you even if we had the world's biggest crowbar," he added with a shake of his head.

Sam smiled then turned toward his brother. "You can go too, Dean. I'll be fine. I'm just gonna sleep awhile," he said tiredly.

"Nah…I think I'll stick around. Dad can bring me something back," Dean said, his green eyes moving up to his father as the man just shook his head.

Sam rolled his eyes, but then he looked over at his brother with what seemed to Dean to be relief. "Okay, if you're sure, but I really will be okay, Dean," he said.

"I'm sure. I'm a bit tired too, so I might just snooze in the chair," Dean replied.

"Okay…well, we'll leave you two to get some rest," John said. "I'll bring you back something, Dean."

"Thanks, Dad," Dean said as he moved from the bed to the chair beside it.

John nodded before he turned and followed the others out of the room, the man looking over his shoulder and smiling as he noticed that even though Dean had moved off the bed, he had not let loose of Sam's hand. John turned his head back around and left the room, letting the door shut behind him, secure in the knowledge that Dean would take care of Sam.

* * *

The Next Day

"Come on, Sammy…come on…I know you can do it!" Dean called, his hands wrapped around the ends of the bars, his body rocking back and forth as he watched Sam fight his way down the bars.

"Gahhhh…it hurts, Dean…it hurts!" Sam cried, his face red with the strain of keeping his body up.

"I know it does…just a little bit more! You can do this, Sammy…" Dean encouraged.

"I don't think I can…it's too hard…ahhh…"

"Yes you can! Don't you give up, little brother…you're almost done!"

Sam bit at his lip and struggled to move his hands down the bars while at the same time dragging each foot along the floor. The going was agonizingly slow and Dean could hardly hold himself back, but he knew that Sam had to do this on his own and not just for Dr. Henderson's satisfaction. Sam had to do it on his own for himself. He had to know that he could do it if he was going to continue to improve.

"Dean! I…I can't…"

"Yes…you…can! You can, Sammy…you can!" Dean shouted.

"Dean…"

"Just keep going…don't give up! Just keep going!"

"Dean…I…I…"

"Sammy…you did it! You did it!" Dean cried as Sam fell into his arms at the end of the bars.

Sam looked up at him, his sweat soaked bangs hanging into his wide eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Wh-what? I…I made it?"

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's waist and pulled him up next to his chest. He leaned back so he could see his brother's face and smiled. "Yeah, kiddo…you made it. I knew you could do it…I knew you could," he said, his green eyes lifting to meet the thrilled face of the physical therapist.

Sam smiled then dropped his head down onto Dean's shoulder. Dean lifted his hand and cupped the back of his brother's head. "You did it, Sam," he whispered as he rested his cheek on the young hunters head.

* * *

Three Days Later

"Here you go, Sammy. Hop on," John said as he rolled Sam's wheelchair next to Sam's bed.

Sam glanced down at the chair and sighed. "Do I have to? I hate that thing," he grumbled as he turned his eyes onto his father.

"You still need it, squirt. Don't worry, it won't be for long," John said sympathetically.

"Dad…I know I'm getting stronger, but I still can't walk…"

"Not yet you can't, but you will. It just takes time, Sam," John said as he helped the teen off the bed and into the chair. He checked the braces on Sam's legs, adjusting them so that they didn't cause his son any discomfort then he turned the wheelchair around and rolled it toward the door.

Once at the door, John stepped around Sam and opened the door, propping it open with the attached doorstop. John went back behind Sam and pushed him out of the room. Sam turned his head and looked up at his father. "Where's Dean and the others?" he asked.

"They're out at the parking lot. Dean wanted to fix the backseat up for you so you'd be comfortable. Jim took a cab to the airport so he could get home and get his place ready for us. Bobby headed out to South Dakota. He'll be by Jim's later in the week. Caleb and Josh are going to follow us to Blue Earth," John answered as he pushed Sam down the hall toward the elevators.

"Did you talk to Dr. Henderson?" Sam asked, the boy smiling at the nurses he had come to know during his stay.

"Yeah. He gave me all of the instructions for your care. He wants you to go for another scan in three weeks and he wants you to keep up with your therapy. Between all of us, we'll have you on your feet in no time, kiddo," John said, the man giving his baby a wink when the teen glanced up at him again.

"Thanks, Dad…for everything, you know. I was pretty miserable to be around…"

"Stop right there…don't say anything else. I'm the one who was miserable to be around. You were just reacting to the way you were being treated. We both have said things…hurtful things, but that's in the past. Okay?" John said.

Sam quirked a small smile and nodded. "Yeah. Okay," he said softly.

John smiled as he continued to push Sam down the hall. He loaded Sam into the elevator, father and son riding down to the ground floor in silence. John rolled Sam across the foyer and out the front doors, the boy raising his hand to shade his eyes from the sunlight. John stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and moved to stand next to Sam. Soon, the heard the rumble of the Impala and within moments, Dean had pulled up in front of them. The young man exited the car and strolled up to his family, a bright smile on his handsome face.

"You ready to hit the road, Sammy?" Dean asked, smiling when Sam nodded his head and lifted his face up to let the sun wash over him.

Together, Dean and John got Sam situated in the backseat of the Impala then with John behind the wheel, they pulled away from the sidewalk and made their way through the parking lot. Caleb pulled in behind them and Sam turned to look out the back window, the teen noticing Joshua in the passenger seat.

"Didn't Josh have his own truck?" Sam asked as he turned to look at the rearview mirror.

"Bobby took it. His truck died and he said it wasn't worth fixing up," Dean answered, the young man turning around to face his brother.

"Oh," Sam said softly as he relaxed against the door.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked with concern.

"I'm fine, Dean. Just happy to be out of that hospital," Sam replied.

"You sure?" Dean pressed.

"I'm sure. I'm a bit tired, but other than that, I'm fine. Stop worrying."

"Yeah…right," Dean said with a chuckle.

Sam shook his head then rested it against the seat back. He closed his eyes and let the rocking of the moving car lull him to sleep, his soft snores filling the car and bringing smiles to the faces of his father and brother.

* * *

The man sat in his car, his tinted window rolled down just far enough so he could watch the two men load the boy into their large, black car. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as he continued to watch the scene, his long nailed fingers digging into the steering wheel as hatred pulsed through him. The car pulled away from the sidewalk and was soon met by a dark SUV. The man pulled out of his spot in the shade of a large tree and followed the two vehicles. He didn't need to follow them the whole way. He knew where they were going. He'd let them think they were safe and then, when they had let their guard down, he would strike and they would never know what hit them.

* * *

**I hope that chapter was worth the wait. I really had a hard time with it. Just couldn't get it to flow right. Guess my head wasn't in the game like it normally is. So, please let me know what you think and I promise I will respond to each comment. Take care all.**

**Cindy**


	31. Chapter 31

**So, here is the next chapter for you. Its a shorter one, but at least you didn't have to wait so long this time. LOL I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

* * *

Sam burst through the wooden doors of Smokin' Joe's Barbeque Saloon, the forearm crutches that supported him clinking against the concrete sidewalk. His cheeks were suspiciously wet as he made his way down the sidewalk, the going slow as he practically dragged his feet along the path. Suddenly, his progress was halted as his arm was grabbed, strong fingers digging into tender flesh as he was spun around.

"Sam!" Dean cried as his brother came face to face with him. "What the hell is your problem!?"

"What do you want from me!?" Sam screamed back, the boy trying to pull his arm out of his brother's firm grasp.

"I want you to stop the little pity party you've been throwing for yourself and get up off your ass!" Dean hollered back, the older sibling regretting the biting words the second he saw the hurt look on Sam's face.

Sam pulled away from Dean, his eyes wide with shock. "I can't believe you just said that to me," he whispered as he moved further away from his brother.

"Yeah…well," Dean said, the young man reaching out toward his brother.

Sam took another step back and gazed up at the older sibling. "You don't know what it feels like," he said.

"Sam…"

"No, Dean! You don't know how it feels to have people stare…"

"Actually, people stare at me all the time. Women mostly, but…" Dean started with a glint in his eye, the young man trying to lighten the mood somehow.

"Just forget it!" Sam huffed as he turned away and started down the walk again.

"Oh come on, Sammy! I was just joking," Dean called after the retreating teenager.

Sam stopped and turned, new tears trailing down his cheeks. "You're always joking, Dean! I'm not laughing though! This is my life! My whole, sucky life!" the boy cried.

"Geez, Sam…would you lighten up? So people stare! Just ignore 'em!" Dean said with exasperation.

"It's not that easy. They don't just stare, Dean! They point…sometimes they laugh, but worst of all…"

Dean watched as his brother dropped his head and stared dejectedly at the sidewalk. "Sam…what?"

Sam looked up and Dean was surprised at the pain he saw in the hazel eyes. "They look at me with pity. I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me. I don't want their pity," Sam said softly.

Dean took a step toward his brother then stopped. He rested his hands on his hips and stared down at the sidewalk for a moment before lifting his eyes and gazing at the teen. "Sam, maybe they'd stop looking at you like they feel sorry for you if you'd stop feeling sorry for yourself," he said.

Sam's eyes widened as he stared at his brother. "I don't…I…you know what!? Forget it! Just…screw you, Dean!" he shouted before turning and hurrying as fast as his condition allowed down the sidewalk.

"Sam! Sam…stop," Dean called, the young man's eyes narrowing when Sam ignored his command. "Okay…fine! Go sulk!" he shouted as he turned and ripped the door to the saloon open and stomped inside.

* * *

Sam made it about two blocks down the street before his legs began to weaken and he had to find someplace to sit down. He found a bench and eased himself down. He groaned as he pulled the crutches from his forearms and rested them on the bench beside him. He rested his head back against the building behind him and closed his eyes. The argument he'd had with Dean played over and over through his head and new tears fought to break free from his already reddened eyes. He didn't feel sorry for himself like Dean thought. It was just so hard. He worked so hard these past weeks and still he needed crutches and braces to keep him on his feet and even then, he became so exhausted that he was forced to use the hated wheelchair a good deal of the time. He hated it. He hated it all, but that didn't mean he felt sorry for himself. No, he didn't give a rat's ass about himself. It was his family he was worried about.

Sam knew his father wanted to hunt again. He knew Dean wanted to hunt again too, but they were being held back. By him. By his inability to get back on his feet, so to speak. He had tried to get them to take a hunt that was offered them, but both had balked at the idea, John asking Caleb and Joshua to take it instead. The two hunters had returned just today and that's why they were here at Smokin' Joe's, going over the hunt with the two elder Winchesters. That was as close as John and Dean had been to a hunt since they rescued Sam and Caleb from the vamps and Sam could see how much it bothered them to be on the outside instead of in the thick of things. Sam was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the figures that had moved to encircle him until it was too late. His eyes sprang open and he automatically reached for his crutches, only to have them kicked away.

"We were talking to you, kid. What…are you retarded along with being a cripple?" one of the men hissed as he leaned over and stared Sam in the eye.

Sam sucked in a deep breath and stared back at the obviously intoxicated man. "Takes one to know one, asshole," Sam flipped back, knowing it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but not willing to bow down to the fear he felt inside.

"You little fucker!" the man shouted as he took Sam by his jacket and jerked him up from the bench.

Sam hissed in pain as he was slammed against the building, the large man proceeding to press his arm against Sam's throat. "Wh…what do you…want," Sam gasped as his air was nearly cut off.

"You're with that little prick who hustled me. He's got all those others around him, but here you are…all alone. From the looks of it, I'd say you're what? Little brother?" the man hissed.

Sam glared at the man, the boy sucking in a deep breath when the man eased up a bit on his throat. "F-Fuck you," he wheezed.

Sam received a fist to the jaw for his infraction, the boy groaning as his head hit the wall behind him at impact. "I'm going to teach your brother a lesson by beating the shit out of you, you smart mouthed little cripple!" the man seethed as he pulled back his fist for another go around.

The man never got another hit in. Just as his hand shot forward, his arm was grabbed and he was jerked away from Sam, the boy sliding down the wall, his weak legs unable to hold him up. His recent encounter with the man's fist didn't help either. The next few minutes were a blur to Sam. He could blearily make out the sound of flesh hitting flesh, but his blurred vision made it nearly impossible for him to tell who was hitting whom. As his vision began to darken, Sam felt strong hands grip his arms and a worried voice call his name, but try as he might he couldn't keep the darkness from winning.

* * *

Dean stormed to the table where his father, Caleb and Joshua sat. He dropped heavily into his vacated chair and ran a shaky hand through his spiked hair. Guilt was starting to eat at him, but he refused to go running back out to Sam. Maybe the kid needed this little kick in the pants to get him back on track. Sam had been doing so well until they had taken a trip into town and spent a few hours just tooling around. Dean had left Sam at a small café for a few minutes to make a phone call outside and when he had returned, Sam's whole attitude had changed. He'd been difficult ever since. Dean looked up when his father's gruff voice sounded from across the table.

"So, you and Sam get things worked out?" John queried as he stared past Dean toward the door. "Where is he anyway?"

"He's cooling off. I may have said some things I shouldn't have. Pissed him off real good," Dean said in reply.

"Dean…you know he's having a rough time. What did you say?" Caleb asked as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table.

"Just told him to quit feeling sorry for himself…"

"Dean…" John started.

"I know…I know. I just hate seeing him give up. He was doing so good then…I think someone made fun of him or something. I don't know. I think I was too hard on him. God…I feel like shit. I should go check on him."

"Just let him be for a bit, Dean. He won't go far," John said, his eyes going to the door again before resting on his eldest son.

"Uh…yeah, okay," Dean said as he watched the jerk who he had taken a hundred bucks off move toward the door, his two pit bull friends following close behind.

Dean turned his attention back to his father and smiled slightly. The four men settled back in their chairs and chatted about the hunt for a bit until Dean's nerves got the better of him and he turned in his chair to stare at the door. He willed the door to open and to see his little brother limp through it, but that didn't happen. He stood from his chair then turned to his companions.

"Something's wrong. I can feel it," he said as he hurried to the door.

John and the others rushed after him, the older men suddenly as spooked as Dean. They stepped out onto the sidewalk and turned when they saw Dean take off down the street, their eyes moving past the younger hunter and widening in anger when they saw their youngest being accosted by three large men. Dean reached the group first and grabbed the arm of the man who had hit Sam before he was able to hit the teen again. He spun the man around and plowed his fist into his surprised face. Dean trusted his father and friends to take care of the others, but this one was his.

"You filthy son of a bitch! Can't fight someone your own size? Gotta pick on a little kid?" Dean seethed as he hit the man again.

The man sneered at Dean as his fist flew at the younger man, but Dean was able to deflect the punch away. He jammed his knee into the man's stomach and snickered as the jerk went down with a pained grunt. Dean straightened then kicked the man as he tried to rise. "Nobody touches my brother, you fucker. Nobody!"

The man groaned as he rolled onto his stomach, his arm wrapped tight around his middle. Dean snorted then turned to Sam, his heart racing as he saw the teen sag sideways against the bench. He rushed to his brother's side and dropped to his knees. He grasped Sam's arms and pulled him straight up until the boy was leaning against the building. "Sam? Hey, kiddo, you okay?" he queried as he leaned down to look into Sam's eyes.

Sam gazed blearily at him then to Dean's horror, his eyes rolled back into his head and the boy went limp in Dean's arms. "Dad! He's hurt!" Dean called as he looked over his shoulder in a panic.

John left Caleb and Joshua to watch over his son's attackers and hurried to Dean's side. He knelt down next to Dean and reached out to lift Sam's head. He lifted first one eyelid then the other, using the light from the street lamp to see. He turned to Dean and smiled.

"He's okay, Dean. His pupils are reactive. He may have taken a knock on the head," John said, his voice shaking with anger.

"I'm going to kill that fucker! Look what he did to Sammy's face," Dean hissed as he made to stand up, his father's firm grip on his forearm keeping him from carrying out his plan.

"Just help me with your brother. Let Caleb and Joshua take care of those assholes," John said, his hand cupping the back of Sam's head, fingers ghosting over the small lump that had formed where Sam's head had met the wall.

Dean huffed a furious breath then nodded. He shuffled his feet a bit then slid his arm around Sam's back and helped John lift him from the sidewalk. Together, the two eldest Winchesters carried Sam to the Impala which was parked across the street and got him situated in the back seat then John hurried back across the street. He got to where Caleb and Joshua stood guard over the three thugs and glared down at the man who had hit his son. Joshua looked up, anger burning in his eyes.

"The kid okay, Johnny?" he asked as he pressed the ringleaders head into the sidewalk.

"He will be. Took a hit to the face and he has a lump on the back of his head," John hissed as he kneeled down next to the struggling man beneath Joshua's hand.

John leaned down until the man could see his face, the man shivering at the rage he saw in the dark eyes that stared at him. John grabbed the man's hair and lifted his head from the sidewalk. "You ever so much as look at my son again…either of my sons…and I will kill you. I'll gut you like a pig. You got it?" he hissed into the man's face, smiling when the coward whimpered and nodded his head.

John dropped the man's head back to the sidewalk, stood and stared down at the men sprawled on the sidewalk. "Come on guys, lets not waste another minute on these pricks," he said coolly.

"What if they call the cops?" Caleb asked as he stood up.

"Oh, I don't think that will happen. As soon as they get one look at Sammy, they'll lock these yahoos up in a heartbeat. I don't think we'll be seeing them again…will we boys?" John said as he toed the ringleader's ribs.

The man stared up and shook his head. "N-No…cops. You won't s-see us," he said, his voice shaking.

"That's the smart thing to say," John said then turned and made his way across the street toward his boys.

Caleb and Joshua spared the cowards one last look before hurrying to Caleb's SUV. Caleb stopped before climbing into his rig, turned and rushed back across the street. Joshua watched as Caleb stepped over one man then leaned over to retrieve Sam's crutches. The hunter hurried back across the street and tossed the crutches into the back seat before climbing in behind the steering wheel. He started the engine then pulled out behind the Impala, the two vehicles speeding away from Smokin' Joe's and three lowlifes who at that moment were counting their lucky stars they were all in one piece.

* * *

The man watched as the black car and dark SUV sped away then turned his attention back to the three men who were just starting to pull themselves up from the sidewalk. He contemplated going after the men, his hunger for fresh blood great, but he knew if he did that, it would alert the hunters. He watched the men stagger down the sidewalk until they disappeared around the corner then he started his car, pulled away from the curb and headed toward the holy man's house. He thought back to the events he had witnessed and an evil smile spread over his face. He knew exactly how to hurt the men who had taken his family from him. He knew exactly where to hit them to cause them the most pain.

The man's attention was drawn away from the road before him when he spied a young woman walking unsteadily down the sidewalk. He returned his gaze to the street, but the hunger in him was too much. He turned down the next street, exited his car and waited. He smiled when the young woman came around the corner. He struck fast, the poor girl never knowing what hit her. The man smiled as he shoved the unconscious woman into his car, strolled nonchalantly around the car and climbed inside. He pulled away from the curb and headed out of town. He stared down at the woman, his desire growing as he watched the steady thump of her juglar.

"I can smell the sweet blood that courses through your veins, my darling. I'm so hungry. So very, very hungry," he whispered as he tenderly brushed his long fingers through her soft, blonde hair.

* * *

**Well, thats it for now. Sorry it was so short, but I really didn't want to make you wait as long as you had to for the last chapter. Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	32. Chapter 32

**Its that time again. I know its taking longer inbetween posts than you are used to, but these chapters just aren't coming easy to me lately. I've had a lot going on lately and I just don't have as much free time as normal. I think to ease the stress that I put myself under I will set a goal to post a chapter a week and if I have inspiration sooner, I'll post more. This way, I won't stress out so much about making you guys wait longer than promised. I hope that's okay with you all. I want to thank all the readers and the ones who left wonderful comments for me. Once again, I just didn't have time to reply to each of you individually. I hope you all know how much your comments mean to me and will continue to comment. I'll try as hard as I can to reply. So, enough of all that...now onto the story.**

**Cindy**

* * *

Dean turned in his seat and gazed at his still unconscious brother. He was worried that Sam was still out and hoped that the boy hadn't suffered a concussion from his run in with the lowlifes from the saloon. His eyes lifted to look out the back window, unease causing his heart to flutter in his chest. He searched the street behind Caleb's SUV, spying a dark vehicle following at a short distance behind. Dean watched the car turn off onto a side road, but the unease didn't leave. His father's voice pulled his attention away from the back window and he turned back around in his seat and glanced over at the older man.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I asked what you were looking for," John answered as he glanced over at his son before returning his gaze to the street in front of him.

"Uh…I don't know. I've just been feeling like maybe we're being watched. Ever since we got here, Dad. I don't know…maybe it's just because of everything that's happened," Dean answered as he looked over his shoulder again to check on his little brother.

"I've been feeling the same thing, Dean. It could just be nerves, but I think if we're both feeling the same thing that maybe we need to keep our eyes a little more open. We've always thought of ourselves as safe here…like this is a safe haven, but with Sammy as vulnerable as he is, we need to be as diligent as we can," John said with a quick look in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah…I can't believe I left Sam outside on the street just 'cause he made me mad…"

"Dean…don't. What happened to Sam…that…"

"Was all my fault, Dad. Those guys are the ones I hustled. They did that to Sammy to get back at me and you know it! And if there is someone watching us…I left Sam out there completely defenseless," Dean cried, his stomach doing flip flops at the what ifs that ran through his head.

"Dean, what's done is done. Those jerks were taken care of and as for our possible stalker? We'll deal with that too. Let's just get Sammy back to Jim's and get him taken care of then we'll talk to Caleb and Josh…see if they've been feeling it too," John said.

Dean glanced over at his father and nodded slowly. "Yeah…okay," he said softly.

* * *

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his green eyes gazing worriedly down at his little brother. He could hear John speaking with Caleb and Joshua out in the hall, but he was only interested in one thing and that was Sam. He reached down and gently tapped on the boy's cheek, his need to see his brother awake overwhelming. A barely audible moan and the soft fluttering of Sam's eyelids was Dean's reward and he leaned closer to the teen, his fingers pausing on the boys cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over his cheekbone.

"Sammy? Hey…wake up, kiddo. You're safe," he said softly, the young man smiling as glassy hazel eyes fluttered open and stared up at him through long, dark eyelashes. "There you are. I thought you were never going to wake up."

"Wh-what happened?" Sam's hoarse voice queried, the boy lifting a shaky hand up to finger his swollen, split lip.

Dean reached down and pulled Sam's hand away then pressed it back down against the mattress. "Some guys that…uh…you got jumped, Sammy. They beat you up a bit…you hit your head," Dean replied, his eyes tearing up as he gazed down at the boy.

"Oh…uh," Sam whispered, his hazel eyes staring up, brows knitted together with sudden worry. "What's wrong, Dean? Are you okay?" Sam asked softly.

Dean dropped his head and blinked back the tears before they could fall. He looked back up and smiled lightly. "I'm sorry, squirt…"

"For what? You didn't do anything, Dean," Sam said with confusion.

"I left you out there by yourself. I accused you of feeling sorry for yourself when I can't even imagine what you're going through. Those guys…they hurt you because of me," Dean explained.

"Dean…it wasn't your fault. I get why you were mad at me. It's just…I don't feel sorry for myself. I'm mad at myself…I…"

"What? Why would you be mad at yourself?"

"For keeping you and Dad from doing what you love."

"What do you mean? I don't understand, Sammy."

"I know you guys wanted to go on that hunt. I could see how disappointed you were to have to stay behind…because of me…"

"Sammy…"

"No, Dean. I'm holding you and Dad back. You shouldn't have to give up what you love just because I can't go with you. I don't want that."

"Sammy…you are what we love. The hunt? Doesn't even compare," Dean said, his voice cracking.

"Dean…I know you guys love me. I know that, but you need to hunt and I know that too," Sam replied, the boy hissing as pain spiked through his head, the action causing Dean to lean further down and place his hand on Sam's forehead.

"Hey…you okay? What's wrong?" Dean cried worriedly, his eyes searching Sam's.

Sam smiled weakly and reached up to take Dean's hand from his forehead. "I'm okay, Dean. Just a headache. Don't worry," he answered.

"That'll never happen, kiddo, so you may as well forget about it," Dean said with a chuckle.

Sam smiled softly then turned his head away. Dean frowned and reached out to nudge the boy's arm. He stared down at his brother, lifting an eyebrow when Sam turned back and glanced up at him. Sam sighed, the teen knowing he could never hide anything from his brother.

"Dean…I…I want you and Dad to keep hunting…"

"Sammy…"

"Just listen," Sam said as he pushed up on his elbows, the boy accepting Dean's helping hand as the elder sibling eased him against the headboard. "You guys need to keep hunting. I'll be okay here with Pastor Jim and…"

"Sam…I'm not leaving you behind and I'm not letting you give up on yourself. You will walk without the crutches and braces," Dean said with a hint of exasperation.

"Dean, I'm not giving up. I'm not. I'm sorry about the way I've been. Its just that its so hard sometimes and I can't stand how people look at me," Sam said, a tear trailing lazily down his cheek as he stared at his brother.

Dean blew out a breath as he brushed his hand through his hair. "I know, kiddo. I know this is hard for you and I wish like hell I could make it easier…"

"You do make it easier, Dean. There's no way I'd be where I'm at right now if it weren't for you," Sam said with a small smile.

"Sammy…can I ask you something?" Dean asked.

"Uh…yeah…I guess," Sam answered nervously.

Dean bit at his bottom lip as he gazed at his baby brother. "What happened that day?" he asked.

"Huh? What day?" Sam asked in reply.

"That day at the diner. I stepped outside and when I came back, you were all depressed and ever since…"

"Some guy made me see how much of a burden I was, like I didn't already know, but knowing someone outside of the family could see it too…I don't know…it just made me think," Sam answered as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

Dean ground his teeth together, anger welling in him as he thought of what could have been said to Sam to make him think he was a burden. He leaned forward and took Sam's chin in his hand. "You are not a burden, Sammy. Never have been, never will be. What did that asshole say to you anyway?" he said, the young man keeping his voice calm despite the anger he felt inside.

"Dean…"

"I want to know, Sammy," Dean said firmly.

Sam sighed and dropped his eyes. "He asked who you were and when I told him you were my brother, he…uh…he said…"

"He said what, Sam?"

"He said I must be pretty selfish to expect my brother to wait on me hand and foot when everyone knows that cripples should be left at home so that their familys could live their lives without having to wipe the crap from our worthless asses," Sam murmured, his chin dropping to his chest, his hand coming up to wipe a tear from his cheek.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean snarled as he stood from the bed, his hands fisted at his sides.

"Sammy…who said this to you?" a gruff voice queried from the direction of the door, making both brothers turn toward the voice and the angry, dark eyes that belonged to its owner.

"Dad…it's okay," Sam said softly, his wet eyes gazing imploringly at his father.

"No, Sam…it isn't okay! It is far from okay!" John hissed as he moved across the floor and stood next to Dean.

"Sammy…why didn't you tell me? I would have kicked his sorry ass!" Dean cried as he once again sat down on the edge of the bed, his green eyes staring intently at his brother.

"That's why, Dean. I knew what you would do and he was drunk and its not like he wasn't partly right…"

"Dammit, Sammy! He wasn't even remotely right! How can you even think we'd consider you a burden? I will say this one more time and then I never want to hear any of this bull crap again! You…are…not…a…burden!" Dean seethed, his face turning red with anger.

"I…I'm sorry, Dean…I…"

"No, I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to understand that no matter what, you are an important member of this family and you are most specifically not a burden!" Dean cried, the young man lifting his eyes up to his father.

"Sam…you're brother is right," the eldest Winchester started, the man smiling when Sam gazed up at him. "You are not worthless and you are not a burden. Oh, and we aren't hunting without you, so just forget about it."

"But…I…uh…okay," Sam stammered.

John smiled again as he knelt down next to the bed and reached around to feel the back of Sam's head. Sam hissed as his father's fingers moved over a tender spot, causing John's fingers to linger on a small lump. "Does that hurt, Sam?" John asked as he watched Sam's eyes for any signs of concussion.

"Uh…a little. It's not too bad though. I'm okay," Sam answered.

"Well, your pupils are fine so I think we dodged a bullet here. Now, you get some rest and stop talking nonsense about your brother and I hunting while you stay behind," John said as he straightened his legs and stood up.

"Yes, sir," Sam said softly before easing himself down until he lay flat on the mattress.

Sam closed his eyes and soon his breathing evened out, indicating to his family that he had fallen asleep. Dean stood and pulled a blanket up over his brother then turned to his father. "I want to hunt that asshole down and rip his heart out for what he said to Sammy, Dad," the young man hissed as he and his father moved toward the door.

"I know, Dean…I do to, but that isn't what we need to worry about right now," John answered as he silently pulled the door to the room shut once he and Dean had stepped into the hall.

Dean stared over at his father, sudden worry causing an uneasiness to settle in his stomach. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I spoke with Caleb and Josh and they agree that we may have someone stalking us. They noticed a dark car following them on the way here before it turned off, but they had the feeling it was behind them for a reason," John answered.

"So, what do we do? Who would be stalking us? Who exactly are they stalking?" Dean asked, a million more questions running through his head.

"I don't know, Dean. We just need to keep our eyes open and stick close to each other," John answered.

"Do you think it has to do with the vampires? I mean, it's so soon after that nightmare. Maybe we didn't kill them all?" Dean asked, his worried eyes moving to the closed door to he and Sam's room.

"I was thinking the same thing, but I don't know for sure. Just keep close to your brother," John said, his own worry ratcheting up a notch.

"He ain't getting out of my sight, Dad," Dean said, the young man moving back toward the bedroom door.

John nodded and watched as Dean disappeared into the room, the door closing silently behind him. John stood for several minutes, his eyes glued to the door. His hands fisted at his sides as he thought of someone out there, stalking his family. He had nearly lost both of his sons and he was bound and determined that nobody else was going to hurt his boys ever again. With one last look, John turned and made his way down the hall. It was time for he and his fellow hunters to get to work. They had a stalker to hunt.

* * *

The man sat in the cover of the trees, basking in the moonlight that bathed him as he watched the window he knew by now to belong to the two brothers. The woman from earlier had quenched his thirst for now, but he couldn't deny the hunger that still gnawed at his guts. It wasn't just the blood he craved, though he remembered the sweet taste from the time that the boy had been in his family's clutches. He couldn't wait to taste it again, but there was more driving him on now. Revenge burned like acid in his veins. The ones responsible for his family's deaths were behind those walls and the one whose loss would hurt them the most was beyond that window. He would make them hurt the way that he hurt. He would take from them what they had taken from him. He would make them suffer as he suffered. He would drain the boy then rip his throat out as the others watched and then he would kill them all, one by one, leaving the father for last.

* * *

**Well, that's it for now. I hope you enjoyed it and I hope you will let me know what you thought.**

**Cindy**


	33. Chapter 33

**FINALLY!!!! I'm ready to finally post my new chapter and boy am I relieved! I had so much trouble with this one. I hope you enjoy. Thanks to all of the comments on the last chapter and once again, I'm sorry for the lack of personal responses. This time of year is so busy, but things should start settling down now. Anyway, on with the story.**

**Cindy**

* * *

Sam sat, his head bowed and his hands clasped together in his lap. His lips moved though no words could be heard coming from his mouth. His eyes were closed and his body rocked minutely back and forth as he prayed. Tears trailed down his cheeks until gravity took over and pulled them toward his jean clad legs, the moisture staining the fading material a darker shade of blue. Sam sat back in the pew and lifted his face, his eyes now open, and peered up to the ornate ceiling of the church. He unclasped his hands and let them rest in his lap as he continued to stare upward.

"Please," he whispered, his voice filled with desperation, hazel eyes filled with tears. "I…I can't do this. I can't live like this. Please…help me."

Sam dropped his head, his chin resting once again on his chest. He wrapped his arms around his middle and turned his head a bit, his eyes coming to rest on the crutches that lay on the seat next to him. He reached out and trailed a finger on the cold metal then wrapped his arms around himself again. He closed his eyes and bit at his bottom lip as he thought about what his life had become.

"Sammy?" a soft voice queried, causing the teen to flinch before his brain realized whom the voice belonged to.

Sam looked up and turned toward the voice. "What?" he asked, a small smile turning the corners of his lips up.

Dean sat down next to him and gazed up at the large cross that hung above the altar at the head of the room. "I couldn't find you. You can't just go off on your own like that," he said as he slowly turned his head so that he could meet Sam's eyes.

"Uh…I'm sorry. Just needed some time alone," Sam said in reply.

"I know, but Sammy…you can't…not…" Dean started, the young man not really sure of what to say.

Sam gazed at his brother and slightly cocked his head. "Dean…what's going on? Why are you and Dad so jumpy lately?" he asked.

"Sammy…we're just…with everything that's happened…you know?" Dean answered, his green eyes dropping, the young man unable to look Sam in the eye while he was lying to him.

"Dean, I know that something's going on. Just tell me…please…just tell me," Sam pleaded.

Dean looked up and gazed at the teen. "Nothing's going on, Sam. We nearly lost you and it's still pretty fresh in our minds is all," he said, the comment not a complete lie, but not the complete truth either.

Sam shook his head, but decided that an argument was not what he wanted right now. He sighed as he relaxed against the pew back again. "Dean?" he said softly, the boy turning his hazel eyes upon his brother.

"Yeah?" Dean replied as he turned slightly in his seat.

"Do you…um…" Sam started, his face flushing as he shuffled in his seat.

"Do I what, Sammy?" Dean queried.

"Um…I asked…I asked God to help me with…well, you know," Sam said as he tilted his head toward his crutches.

"Uh…okay…I kind of heard that actually," Dean replied as he continued to gaze at his brother.

Sam's eyes widened a little before he dropped them to his lap. "You did?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Sammy and it's nothing to be embarrassed about," Dean said, the young man reaching down to lift Sam's face up to meet his. "Now, what did you want to ask me?"

"Um…do you think He'll help me? Do you think He'll make me walk again…without the crutches?" Sam asked timidly.

Dean smiled down at Sam's expectant face and scooted a little closer to the teen. "I don't know, but I do know this…I know that even if He doesn't, you still have Dad and me and the others. Put your faith in us, Sammy. We'll always be right here for you, no matter what," Dean said as he dropped his hand from Sam's face and leaned back in his seat.

Sam gazed up at his brother and smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Dean…and I do have faith in you. Always," the teen said softly.

Dean nodded and lightly slugged Sam's shoulder. He moved to stand then reached down to help Sam to his feet. "It's getting dark and Dad'll kill me if I don't get you in the house soon so let's go, shrimp," he said as he steadied his brother.

Sam pulled his crutches up from the pew and slipped his wrists into the cuffs. He waited until Dean turned and moved out of the pew then followed after. The brothers headed for the carved wooden doors, Dean pushing one open and stepping through. He held the door for Sam then closed it behind the teen. He led the way as he stepped out from under the overhand, the young man letting out a startled yell as he was suddenly grabbed from above and flung across the yard, his body hitting the ground hard.

"Dean!" Sam screamed as he saw his brother fly across the yard, the young man's body lying still as it came to rest near the large oak.

Sam started forward, but was knocked down with a harsh shove, the boy grunting as he hit the ground. He looked up in a panic to see a tall man strolling nonchalantly across the grass to where his brother lay, the man reaching down to grab Dean's collar and drag him up from the ground. Sam pushed himself up, his heart lurching when he heard Dean cry out in pain. He looked up to see that the man had slammed a now conscious, but groggy Dean roughly against the trunk of the oak. Sam took a staggering step forward, his hazel eyes never straying from his brother and the man who was attacking him. He found a strength he thought he'd lost all those weeks ago when he saw the man lean in toward his brother's throat, his foul lips brushing over the sensitive flesh, bringing a grimace to Dean's face.

"Noooooooooo!" Sam screamed as he barreled his slight body into that of the larger man, Dean's body dropping to the ground as the man was knocked away from him.

Sam grunted as he fell atop the man, amazed that he had brought him down. The man turned to face him, an evil smile curling his blood red lips. "I knew I could count on you, Sammy. I knew you'd come to your brother's rescue," he hissed as he twisted and grabbed a handful of Sam's hair and pulled his head back sharply.

"Uhnnn…" Sam groaned as the man effortlessly stood and pulled him up by his hair.

"S'my…no…" Dean's pained voice sounded and Sam turned his terrified eyes toward the voice.

Dean struggled to his feet, his green eyes locked on his brother's as he reached out to steady himself against the tree. He never let his eyes stray, even when he heard the sound of the back door opening and the sound of three sets of footsteps rushing across the wooden planks of the deck. He heard his father's angry voice call out, but still he kept his eyes on his brother and the man who held him.

"Let my son go, you son of a bitch!" John growled as he came up next to Dean, his strong hand coming out to grab Dean's arm, his dark eyes burning into the man with deep hatred.

"No, I don't think so, John. You see, you destroyed family, now its time for me to return the favor. I figure this one here will do the most damage to your precious little family," the man his as he gave Sam's hair a rough yank, the teen whimpering as his head was yanked back.

"If you hurt my brother I'll rip you apart!" Dean seethed as he stood up straight next to his father.

The man smiled, his sinister eyes moving over the two men before him then turning slightly to watch Caleb and Joshua attempting to move around him. He reached his other hand up and encircled Sam's neck, his fingernails digging into the tender skin and drawing blood. "Stop right there fella's or I rip his throat out. It'll only take a minute for him to bleed out," he hissed, his hand tightening around Sam's throat, the teen gasping as his air was nearly cut off.

Caleb and Joshua stopped instantly at the sound of Sam's distress. They moved toward John and Dean when the man motioned for them to come into his immediate view. When the two had come to stand in front of him, just as John and Dean were, he smiled.

"Good, now you can all watch as I take that which is most precious to you, just as you took what is most precious to me," the man hissed, his mouth opening wide as his vampire teeth descended.

"No! I'll kill you…I'll fucking rip your heart out if you hurt my boy!" John screamed as he lunged forward, his dark eyes locked with the vampires.

The vampire jerked back from the men, dragging a helpless Sam with him, the teens terrified eyes tearing through the men's hearts as they watched the vampire drag him further away. "You'll never save him, John…but don't worry, as soon as I'm done with him, I'll take care of the rest of you. You won't have to suffer in grief for as long as I've had to," the vampire said before suddenly plunging his teeth into Sam's neck, the teen screaming out in pain as the teeth penetrated his flesh.

"No!!!" Dean screamed as he rushed forward, his green eyes locked on Sam's pain filled hazel ones. "Let him go!"

The vampire watched the men with raised eyes as he suckled on Sam's throat, the loud slurping sound turning the stomachs of the men as they moved forward. Sam's body twitched while at the same time his eyes dulled as the life was slowly drained from him. John and Dean rushed forward, determined to save their youngest or die trying. Just as they were a mere five feet away, the vampire suddenly let go of Sam, a bloodcurdling scream tearing from his throat. Sam dropped to the ground in a boneless heap as the vampire spun around, his hands reaching over his shoulders and clawing at something protruding from his back. John and Dean dropped down beside Sam, but their startled, confused eyes remained on the vampire.

Dean's eyes widened as Pastor Jim rounded the vampire, his hands covered in blood, a machete held in one. The vampire dropped to the grass and it was then that the hunters saw what the preacher had used to incapacitate the monster. A large, ornate crucifix protruded from the vampires back at a slight angle. The hunters could hear the sound of flesh sizzling, could see smoke rising from the wound. Dean looked over at John then rose form the grass and approached Jim, his hand outstretched. Jim nodded and handed the machete over to the younger man then stepped to John's side and sank down onto his knees next to Sam's trembling body.

Dean stood over the vampire, the young man staring down at the creature with unbridled hate. He leaned over and ripped the crucifix from the vampires back and tossed it to the ground. He flipped the creature over with the toe of his boot, smiling a cold smile when the vampire stared up at him. "Nobody hurts my family you filthy son of a bitch! Nobody touches my brother and lives to tell about it!" he hissed before raising the machete and bringing it down in one smooth motion.

Dean spared only one more glance at the beheaded creature before rushing back to his brother and father. John had turned Sam over and was holding the barely conscious teen in his arms while Jim held his hand over the weeping wound in Sam's neck. Joshua and Caleb moved up to stand over the others, the two watching with worried eyes as Sam moaned in pain.

"We have to get him inside and stop this bleeding," John cried as he leaned over his baby so he could see his eyes.

"D'd?" Sam whispered, his glassy eyes staring up at his father, though John wasn't sure if Sam was seeing much of anything.

"I'm here, Sam…you just hold on, okay?" John answered, his hand coming up to cup Sam's cheek.

"D'n 'k?" Sam asked, his eyes moving around in an obvious search for his brother.

Dean leaned forward and took Sam's hand in his, the young man dismayed by the coldness of the smaller hand. "I'm fine, Sammy…you saved me, kiddo," Dean said, his voice hitching as he witnessed the relief come over Sam's face.

"'s good…" Sam slurred, his eyes falling shut as his taxed and tortured body finally gave way to unconsciousness.

"Sammy?" Dean cried as he gave Sam's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Let's get him into the house," John said with urgency as he slid his arms beneath Sam's body and lifted him with little effort from the ground.

Dean and Jim stood with John and the three started toward the house. Caleb and Joshua didn't need to be told what had to be done. They moved toward the lifeless body of the vampire until an alarmed voice stole their attention away from the task at hand. The hunters turned to see Jim knelt on the ground next to Dean's collapsed body. They rushed across the grass toward the others, Caleb glancing over at John with confused eyes.

"What the hell happened?" Caleb queried.

"I don't know. He just stopped then he collapsed," John cried, his worried eyes gazing down at his youngest before moving to his eldest.

"You get half pint inside and we'll take care of Ace, Johnny," Caleb said as he gave the man a reassuring smile.

John continued to gaze at Dean then lifted his eyes to his friend. He nodded then reluctantly made his way toward the house. Caleb moved to the others and smiled with relief when Dean's eyes fluttered open and the young man stared up at the others.

"What happened?" Dean queried groggily as he tried to sit up, his eyes showing irritation when strong, but gentle hands held him down.

"Well, Ace…seems you fainted like the girl that you are," Caleb said with a chuckle.

"Screw off, jerk," Dean slurred, the young man groaning as Jim and Joshua helped him up from the ground.

"Can you walk, Dean," Jim asked as he gave Caleb a disparaging glare, the younger man shrugging his shoulders and flashing a small grin.

"Uh…yeah…I think so," Dean answered, thankful for the strong arms that held him up as he realized his legs felt like rubber.

Dean was helped into the house and up the stairs to the room he and Sam shared, his eyes immediately moving to his little brother whom John already had laid out on his bed, the elder Winchester attending to the wound in Sam's neck. John looked up and sighed with relief when he saw his eldest standing on his own two feet, albeit with a little help.

"Get him into bed," John said as he turned his attention back to his youngest.

Jim and Joshua led Dean to the other bed and laid him down. "Dad, I'm okay…don't need to lie down," Dean said from the other bed, the young man trying to sit up, his head having other ideas.

John looked over and shook his head. "You must have hit your head, Dean. You could have a slight concussion. Just lie down. Sam's right here and he's going to be fine," he said, the man nodding when Dean did as he was told.

"Josh and I will go take care of the vamp," Caleb said, he and Joshua ducking out of the room, leaving Jim and John to care for the two youngest hunters.

Jim sat down on the edge of Dean's bed and gently turned the young man's head, the older man chuckling as Dean's eyes remained on his brother a few feet away. "Dean, I need to see your eyes," the preacher said with a sigh.

Dean reluctantly turned his eyes toward Jim and allowed the man to check him over, his head immediately turning back toward his family as soon as the preacher was finished.

"His eyes look fine, John. He's probably got a slight concussion, but nothing to be too concerned about," Jim said.

John looked over and smiled appreciatively. "Get some rest, Dean. Sam's out for the count and won't be waking for a while. I gave him the good pain pills along with an antibiotic," he instructed tiredly.

"I'm fine, Dad. Gotta keep an eye on Sammy," Dean said, his voice sounding tired and weak.

"No, you've got to rest. I'll be right here to keep an eye on you and your brother. Now do as you're told and get some rest," John said.

Dean bit at his lower lip, but did as he was told. Jim smiled down at him then stood and silently left the room, the older man pulling the door shut behind him. Dean gazed over at his father and brother, a tear welling in his eye as he saw the bandage on Sam's neck and the paleness of the young teens skin.

"Dad…I'm sorry," Dean whispered, his green eyes meeting John's dark brown ones.

"For what, Dean?" John asked as he stood and made his way over to his eldest son's bed.

"I let that bastard get the drop on me and Sammy got hurt. The little twerp should've run, but he came right after that vamp and…" Dean said, the young man's words cutting off as something flashed in his memory.

John gazed down at Dean, worried about his sudden silence. "Dean…what?" he queried gruffly.

"Sammy…he…he didn't have his crutches," Dean replied, his eyes turning to look at his unconscious brother.

"What? What do you mean?" John asked, his gaze following Dean's.

"I was pretty much out of it, but I swear…when Sammy rammed into the freak, he wasn't using his crutches. He made it across the yard all on his own, Dad," Dean said excitedly, new tears welling in his eyes.

"You're sure about that?" John asked, his gaze returning to Dean's face.

Dean looked up at him and smiled. "I'm pretty sure you won't find Sam's crutches anywhere near that tree, Dad," he replied proudly.

"Well, I'll be," John said, his dark eyes twinkling.

"He's going to be alright, right Dad?" Dean asked.

"Yeah…I think he is, Dean," John replied with a smile. "Now, get some sleep. I'll be right here so don't worry."

Dean looked over at Sam once more then turned onto his side and closed his eyes. John watched as Dean's breathing evened out almost immediately then stood and proceeded to remove his eldest son's shoes. He draped a blanket over the young man then moved over to the chair that sat in the corner. He lifted the chair and carried across the room then set it down between the beds where his son's slept. He reached for the lamp on the nightstand and shut the light off, allowing just the light of the moon to illuminate the room. He looked from one son to the other and smiled warmly. He reached a hand out and ran his fingers tenderly through Sam's hair before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest.

"We're going to be just fine, boys. I promise, we're going to be just fine," he whispered before falling silent to listen to the wonderful sound of his sons peaceful slumber.

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**That's it for now guys. Hope it was worth the wait. Please let me know and I'll try very hard to get personal responses out to you. Take care.**

**Cindy**


	34. Chapter 34

**I'm back! Sorry for the delay. Tons of stuff going on right now. I am on vacation for a week and just staying home so I'm hoping to finish this story up. Fingers crossed. I'll be starting on another Three Brothers story after this...that's right...Danny!! So, thank you all for the wonderful reviews...you really are the best. This chapter is just a sweet, family togetherness one. Hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

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John had just begun to doze off in his chair when the sound of soft whimpers brought him back like a sledgehammer to his head. He turned toward his youngest son's bed and reached with his hand to gently brush his fingers through the restless boy's hair. He cooed softly, but when even that did nothing to calm the slowly awakening teen, he eased off the chair and knelt beside the bed, his large hand moving to cup Sam's cheek, his thumb caressing over his baby's cheek.

"Shhh, Sammy…it's okay. I'm right here. You're safe now," John whispered as he continued to cup Sam's face.

Long, dark lashes fluttered as sluggish eyelids slowly opened revealing soft, glassy hazel eyes. They stared up into John's face and the elder Winchester smiled as he moved his hand up to brush chocolate colored hair from Sam's forehead.

"Hey, kiddo," John said, his dark eyes gazing intently into his youngest sons.

Sam blinked a few times as if to clear his vision then reached up with trembling fingers toward the bandage on his neck. John grasped his hand and gently pulled it away, the older man keeping hold of the hand as he smiled down at the groggy boy.

"D'd?" Sam whispered hoarsely, his fingers curling around John's large hand as if holding on for dear life.

"Yeah, Sam…it's me. You're safe now…the vampire is dead," John answered as he leaned in closer to Sam's face.

Sam turned his head slightly, his eyes searching out the other bed and stilling the moment they found the other Winchester sound asleep upon it. "D'n 'k?" he asked softly as he gazed at his sleeping brother.

John turned his head and looked over to the other bed before turning his attention back onto his youngest. "He's fine, Sam…because of you," he answered, the man smiling as Sam turned to gaze up at him with confusion.

"What?" Sam whispered.

"You saved your brother, kiddo. Got yourself hurt trying to protect him and I'm sure he's going to want to have words with you about that when he wakes up," John said with a slight chuckle.

Sam glanced over at Dean once more, his hazel eyes filling with tears as he remembered the events from earlier in the evening. "Ds'nt matter if I got hurt…'s long as Dean's okay," he said softly.

"It does matter, kiddo. You matter…your safety matters. You did a brave thing, but you could have died, Sammy and that certainly does matter," John replied, his large hand once more cupping Sam's cheek and gently turning his face until their eyes met. "You matter, Sam."

Sam bit at his lower lip, one tear managing to spill over onto his cheek despite his best efforts to keep the tears at bay. "Not as much as Dean," he whispered.

"Yes, just as much as Dean…"

"He's the hunter, Dad, not me…and now that I'm stuck with the crutches, I'm even less of a hunter than I was before," Sam said as more tears made their way down his flushed cheeks.

John felt his eyes begin to sting and he blinked them closed before finally opening them to once again gaze down at his baby boy. "Sammy…you crossed that yard without your crutches. You walked without the crutches…saved Dean without the crutches," he said with pride in his voice.

Sam's eyes widened as John's words penetrated his foggy brain. "What?" was all his shocked mind could come up with in reply.

"You walked, Sam…all on your own. No crutches…nobody holding you up. Just you. Your brother needed you and you did what had to be done," John answered, his thumb brushing the tears from Sam's cheek.

"I-I walked? I…I don't…" Sam stammered, his hand tightening around John's as the meaning to his father's words sunk in.

"Believe it, Sammy. You're going to be just fine. It's only a matter of time before you can throw those crutches away for good," John said, smiling with deep affection as Sam suddenly yawned widely, his eyes drooping with the exhaustion that the elder Winchester knew the boy had to be feeling after his ordeal and subsequent blood loss. "Now, get some sleep, kiddo…you had quite the night so far. Lost a fair amount of blood."

"'m 'kay, Dad. 'm not tired," Sam slurred, his eyes once again searching out his brother on the other bed. "Need to watch out for D'n," he continued, the boy finally losing the battle as his eyes shut and his breathing evened out.

John watched Sam for several minutes, amazed at the devotion both of his boys had for each other. It didn't matter how badly they may be hurt, they always worried more about their sibling than themselves and it warmed John's heart to see just how much they loved each other. He knew they loved him too, but the love they had for each other was something beyond what they would ever feel for anyone else, him included. John felt a brief pang of loss, but quickly squelched it. Things were as they should be and he would not feel sorry for himself. His sons loved him and he loved them and that was all that he needed. Everything else was secondary, even finding Mary's killer. John was amazed and ashamed that it took nearly losing both his boys to realize that, but now that he did, he would make it up to the both of them.

John smiled down at Sam as the boy sighed in his sleep and leaned his face into the hand that still cupped his cheek. John leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to his baby's forehead, his dark eyes closing as he breathed in the boy's unique scent.

"I love you so much, Sammy," John whispered, his lips still resting softly on his youngest's forehead. Finally, he straightened then pushed up to his feet. He gazed down at his sleeping son then turned to the other bed where his eldest son slept. He took the one step it took to get to the other bed and reached down to pull the blankets higher up on Dean's chest. He watched the young man for a moment, his heart filled with love and pride. "I love you, Dean…so very much," he said before sitting once again on the chair between the beds.

"Love you too, Dad," Dean whispered, the young man smiling sleepily as his startled father turned to look at him.

"Dean…you're awake. How're you feeling?" John queried as he turned to face his son, a slight flush warming his cheeks.

"Head hurts a bit, but I'm okay. How's Sammy?" Dean replied, his gaze drifting past his father's shoulder to settle on the still form of his little brother.

"He's going to be fine. He was just awake a few minutes ago, but he's pretty warn out and is back asleep now," John replied as he gazed over his shoulder at the sleeping teen.

Dean nodded, his gaze lingering on Sam for a few more moments before returning to his father's face. "He talk at all?" he asked.

"Yeah," John started, a small smile curling his lips. "He was worried about you. First thing he asked."

"Figures…stupid little jerk," Dean mumbled as he gingerly pushed himself up onto his elbow.

John reached out and gripped Dean's arm, helping the younger man to sit up against the headboard. "He's just like you," John said with a shrug.

Dean glanced over at his brother before turning green eyes back onto his father. "Yeah…right," he said, one corner of his mouth turning up slightly in a sheepish grin.

"He is…more than you think, Dean. Both so willing to put your lives on the line for the other. It scares me to death, but makes me so proud at the same time. As long as you two stick together, I know you'll be as safe as you can be," John said with a sigh.

Dean scooted up higher against the headboard. "You know we'll always stick close to each other, Dad. After everything that's happened, that kid ain't getting out of my sight again…even when he's eighty," he said as he shifted his gaze over to the other bed, his eyes softening as he watched his brother shift in the bed, his hand coming up to rest beside his cheek.

John chuckled softly as he turned to gaze down at Sam. "He may have something to say about that, Dean. Kid may want to get away from us someday," he said, his smile belying the fear he felt at the prospect that his words could possibly be true.

Dean furrowed his brow and glanced up at his father. "You don't think he'll want to leave someday do you, Dad?"

John shrugged and dropped his eyes to his lap. "I hope not, but he's always wanted…no, craved more than this life. I scares the hell out of me, but he may want to go to college someday. With his brain? Why wouldn't he want to?"

"Because he'll be alone and I can't protect him if he's not with me and he knows he can't…"

"Dean…stop. You know Sam. You know how independent he is. Once he gets past everything that's gone down these past months, he'll start to assert that independence and he'll start driving us crazy all over again," John said as he reached out and grasped Dean's arm.

"Well, then…you have to stop him. You have to tell him he can't go! He'll be too vulnerable…an easy target, Dad. You know its true. He can't go to college…he has to stay with us…"

"Dean…calm down. You're going to wake him," John said, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared over at his son.

Dean shot a glance over at his brother and swallowed against the fear rising in him. He returned his gaze to his father. "Dad…he won't be safe," he whispered.

"Sam is strong. He's a good hunter…has amazing instincts," John said in defense of his youngest son.

"Yeah, Dad…I know all that, but he also has an amazing knack of drawing supernatural douche bags to him," Dean said in reply.

John glanced over as Sam murmured something unintelligible in his sleep before settling down once again. The Winchester patriarch reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from the teen's eyes then looked back up at his eldest.

"Yeah, that scares me too, Dean. Who knows…maybe we won't have to worry about it. Maybe he'll realize that the best place for him is with us," John said hopefully.

"I hope you're right, Dad. God…I hope you're right," Dean said as he turned his head enough to once again catch sight of his baby brother.

John reached out and softly slugged Dean's arm, the older man smiling warmly as green eyes turned to meet his dark ones. "Go back to sleep, son…I'll keep an eye on him," John said.

"No, not tired anymore. Now you, old man…you look pretty wiped," Dean replied with a chuckle.

"Hey…who you calling old?" John cried with mock surprise.

"I call 'em how I sees 'em…old man," Dean quipped.

"Watch it, kiddo," John said gruffly.

Dean grinned as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up straight, his arms stretched over his head as he worked the kinks out of his back. He brought his arms back down and glanced once more at his father. "Seriously, Dad…you need to get some sleep. I'll sit with Sammy," he said softly.

"Dean…you look beat…"

"I want to sit with him, Dad. I…I need to. Please," Dean said, his eyes gazing pleadingly at his father.

John shook his head as he reached out and slapped Dean's knee. "Okay. Just…keep an eye on his breathing and his temperature. He lost a lot of blood, so he's probably going to be pretty much out of it for a while…"

"Dad…I know. Don't worry," Dean said evenly.

John gazed at his eldest son and smiled warmly. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? You did pass out…"

"I'm fine," Dean said with a shake of his head. "Now go get some sleep."

John nodded then turned toward the bed that held his youngest son. He reached down and pulled the blanket up further on Sam's chest, his large hand resting over the teen's heart, the steady beat telling him just how lucky he was. Things could have turned out so much worse. John pulled his hand away and gingerly stood from the chair. He glanced down at Dean then headed across the room. He stepped through the open doorway then pulled the wooden door shut behind him. He stood outside the door for a moment before finally heading downstairs to the sofa that was suddenly calling his name.

Dean watched as his father left the room and waited until he heard the man's footsteps fading away down the hall before he moved from the bed to the chair that his father had vacated. He turned the chair so that he was facing Sam's bed, his green eyes never leaving his brother's peaceful face. He leaned over, his elbows resting on his knees, the chair close enough to the bed so that he could reach out his fingers and touch Sam's arm. He shook his head as he watched Sam sleep. He'd come so close…again…to losing the most important person in his life and it would have been his fault if it had turned out worse than it had. He'd allowed Sam to slip away from him and make the trek to the church unattended. He hadn't told Sam of the threat against them so the teen had no reason to think he was in any danger while alone.

Dean closed his eyes as he remembered lying to Sam when the kid had asked why he and their father were acting so…clingy. Sam had known that something was up, but had allowed Dean to lie to him, the teen probably not up for any kind of argument. Dean should have told him right then and there about he and the other's suspicions. Maybe if he had, the vampire wouldn't have gotten the drop on them and Sam wouldn't have nearly been drained dry. Dean's gaze moved to the thick bandage on his brother's neck and his stomach turned over as he remembered the sound of the vampire as it fed on the teen. He took a deep breath to ease the nausea as he stretched out his hand, his fingers brushing lightly against Sam's bare arm.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I shouldn't have lied to you. We should have told you from the beginning about the stalker. We were trying to protect you and it just ended up getting you hurt…again," Dean whispered as he dropped his head and closed his eyes.

"'s not your fault, D'n," Sam's raspy, weak voice whispered, the unexpected sound making Dean jump before he lifted his head, his green eyes meeting the glassy hazel of his brother's.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said as he inched closer to the bed, his hand instinctively reaching out to take Sam's smaller one. "Didn't know you were awake."

"Uhhh…j's woke up," Sam slurred, his fingers curling around Dean's hand.

"How you feeling? Do you need anything?" Dean queried, his gaze moving over Sam's body before coming to rest on his face once more.

"Um…'m feeling…uh…fluffy," Sam whispered, his eyes blinking lethargically, but never leaving Dean's face.

"Fluffy? Not like that freaky fabric softner bear I hope," Dean said with a slight shiver.

"Huh?" Sam queried with confusion, the teen obviously still quite out of it.

"Never mind," Dean replied as he gave Sam's hand a gentle squeeze. "You say you feel fluffy. What do you mean?"

"Uhhh…like my heads filled with cotton…'m all fuzzy and strange feelin'," Sam said, his voice barely audible.

Dean let go of Sam's hand and reached up to gently brush his fingers through the teens messy hair. "That's the blood loss, kiddo. You're gonna be feeling weird for a while," he explained to his groggy brother.

"Oh," Sam whispered as he leaned into Dean's touch. "Am I dyin'?"

Dean flinched at Sam's words, but regained his composure almost immediately. He leaned over and smiled as Sam gazed up at him with wide, fearful eyes. "No, Sammy…you ain't dying. Not on my watch," he said, hoping that his not all there little brother didn't notice the hitch in his voice.

Sam nodded as he accepted without question his brother's words. "'k, D'n," the teen whispered tiredly. "You 'k?" he queried, his eyes suddenly filled with worry.

Dean smiled and nodded as he slid his fingers from Sam's hair. "I'm good, kiddo. You made sure of that. One thing though…if you ever do anything like that again, I'll be forced to kick your scrawny little butt from here to Toledo!" he said with no venom in his voice what so ever.

"You're my brother…gonna protect you," Sam whispered softly.

"Uh uh…that's my job, Sammy…"

"Mine too."

Dean shook his head and smiled with affection as Sam's eyes fluttered then began to close. "What am I gonna do with you?" he questioned softly.

Sam's eyes opened again and he reached for Dean's hand, which the elder sibling offered willingly. "Love you, D'n," he slurred, his eyes closing once again as he fell back to sleep.

Dean's eyes began to sting as he continued to hold Sam's hand, his thumb rubbing softly over the soft skin of the younger hunter's palm. "I love you too, Sammy," he whispered softly. "I love you too."

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**Altogther now! Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!! So, what did you think? Please let me know. There's more to come, but not much more. Take care. Love you all.**

**Cindy**


	35. Chapter 35

**Well guys, this is it. The final chapter. I had planned on posting it days ago, but I had some computer problems and I couldn't access my Word documents until tonight. I had most of it done, but still had a bit more to do. I want to thank all of the readers and reviewers. Your support means the world to me and is what keeps me writing. I hope you enjoy this final chapter. So, I'll quit yapping so you can get to it!**

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**Two Months Later**

John, Jim and Caleb were perched upon a large boulder, the three men relatively relaxed as they watched Dean and Sam run the obstacle course that they had constructed in the vacant patch of land behind Jim's rectory. They couldn't completely relax though as this was the first true test of how far Sam's recovery had progressed. They had all been working tirelessly, along with Bobby and Joshua before they'd had to leave, to help Sam regain his strength, balance and agility. None of them had spent as much time as Dean had though, the young man making it his personal responsibility to get his brother firmly back on his feet. Every waking moment was spent helping Sam with his physical therapy, strength training and stretching as well as spending a great deal of time just hanging out and reconnecting to the point where the brothers were closer now than they had ever been before.

The three men's hearts filled with pride when they thought about how far the youngest hunter had come from those earlier days. It hadn't been easy and there had been days when Sam was in so much pain and so exhausted that he found it hard to get out of bed, but Dean had always been there to offer encouragement and pain killers when needed. Sam had worked through the pain and exhaustion and after a month had been able to throw the crutches away for good, much to the delight of his family and friends. There was also great pride for the elder brother for his devotion to Sam and his tireless efforts that were undoubtedly the key to bringing his little brother back to health. The two youngest hunters were inseparable these days, just as they had been when they were younger and John had to smile as the young men's banter met his ears.

"Come on, Sammy…you run like a little girl!" Dean shouted good naturedly as he ran ahead of his little brother.

"Yeah…well at least I don't look like one! You're prettier than most of the girls you go out with!" Sam shouted in return, a broad, dimpled smile on his flushed face.

"I'm not pretty you little twerp! It's called devastatingly handsome!" Dean called as he turned to look over his shoulder.

"Devastating is right…just not sure about the handsome part!" Sam quipped as he picked up his speed.

Dean turned his head back around with a chuckle and continued to run until he crossed over the finish line of the obstacle course. He turned to watch Sam finish his run, his happiness turning to fear as Sam's legs suddenly tangled and the boy went down hard, face first, into the dirt. Dean immediately took off toward his brother, the young man catching the movement of his father and friends as they too rushed to the fallen teen. Dean reached Sam just as the boy was pushing himself up from the ground. Sam made it to his feet without help and turned to John and the others, the teen shrugging his shoulders and smiling sheepishly, his cheeks flushed with more than exertion.

"Hey…you okay?" John asked as he neared his son, his eyes immediately zoning in on the blood dripping from the kid's chin.

"I'm okay. Just skinned up a bit," Sam answered, his hazel eyes turning to reassure his worried brother.

"What happened, Sammy? Did your legs give out on you?" Dean asked with concern.

"No…its okay, Dean…really. My feet just got tangled," Sam replied with a small smile. "I tripped myself…I'm fine," he continued when he saw that his brother wasn't completely satisfied with his explanation.

"Sammy…if something happened you have to tell us. Dr. Finch said that…" Dean started, but his words were cut off by his brother's soft voice.

"Dean…I'm okay. You said yourself that I trip on air. It's just me being clumsy. I feel fine. My legs feel fine…my back feels fine," Sam said, his hands held out by his sides.

Dean gave his brother a good once over before reaching out to lift Sam's chin. He eyed the raw flesh and shook his head. "Okay, but we need to get you in to clean this chin up," Dean said as he took Sam's arm and guided him toward the rectory.

As the two siblings passed the other men, Caleb reached out and patted Sam on the back. "You did real good today, half pint. Well, right up until you bit the dust, but still," the older hunter said with a grin.

Sam smiled as he glanced at his friend through chocolate fringe. "Thanks, Caleb," he said softly as he allowed himself to be led across the lot.

The group was silent as they walked the rest of the way to the rectory, Jim leading the way up the back steps and through the back door. Dean led Sam to a chair at the kitchen table and sat him down as John went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. He re-entered the kitchen and set the kit down on the table before opening the lid and extracting the items needed to clean Sam's skinned chin. Dean took the items from his father and began to wipe the blood away so he could better assess his brother's injury. Sam gazed up at first his father then his brother and rolled his eyes.

"Guys…I'm not dying. It's just a scraped chin. I can take care of it myself," the teen said with a hint of exasperation.

"You hit the ground pretty hard, kiddo. Just let us take a look at you. Humor us why don't you, okay?" John said as he grasped Sam's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Sam shook his head slightly as he leaned back in the chair, the teen knowing there was no way he'd get out of this without a complete examination. "You guys are hopeless. You know that, right?" he said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, well if you weren't such a klutz we wouldn't have to go through this every other day," Dean said with a grin. "Now sit still so I can fix your boo boo."

Sam gazed up at his brother, stuck out his tongue and blew a big raspberry prompting little drops of spittle to hit the shocked young man. John and Caleb burst out laughing at the surprised look on Dean's face, Jim joining in as he brought a steaming pot of coffee to the table. "Real mature, Sammy…real mature," Dean grumbled as he reached up to wipe his face with the back of his hand.

Sam chuckled as he continued to look up at his brother. "You should have seen your face," he gasped as his chuckles turned into full on belly laughs.

"Yeah, yeah…laugh it up," Dean growled, even as he gently began to clean Sam's chin.

Sam got his laughter under control and sighed as he continued to watch his brother's face. "I'm sorry, Dean," he said softly.

Dean stopped what he was doing and stood back a bit. He gazed down at his brother's upturned face and the wide, puppy dog eyes and shook his head. "It's okay, twerp. Don't worry about it…I wasn't really mad," he said before going back to work on Sam's chin.

Sam gave a small smile as he tilted his head back again. "'kay, Dean," he said.

Dean grinned and finished cleaning Sam's chin then he spread a thin layer of antibiotic ointment over the scrape and covered it with a sterilized bandage. He stood back and eyed his brother critically then gazed over at his father. "You think we should take him to see Dr. Finch? Just in case?" he asked, giving Sam a dirty look when the boy huffed with frustration.

John glanced at his youngest son then moved closer to the boy. He reached down and grasped Sam's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You feeling any pain anywhere, Sam? Your neck feel okay?"

Sam pushed to his feet and immediately felt his brother's hand wrap around his upper arm. "I'm fine, Dad. The only thing that hurts is my chin…really," he answered.

"Sammy…we just want to be sure you didn't hurt your back. We can't…" Dean started.

"I know, Dean," Sam said as he turned to his brother and smiled. "I'm fine. I wouldn't lie about this. Do you think I want to go back to how I was before? I'm fine."

Dean and John watched Sam for a moment then John wrapped his arm around his youngest son's shoulders. "Okay, kiddo. Why don't you go take a shower and get cleaned up before dinner," he said, his dark eyes moving to Dean, the slight nod of his head telling the elder sibling everything he needed to know without a single word being said.

Sam nodded and moved away from his father then headed for the stairs that led up to the guest rooms and bathroom. Dean followed behind, the young man smirking as Sam looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. Sam turned his head back around and headed up the steps, the boy knowing there was nothing he could do about the constant scrutiny he was under. To be honest, the boy was thankful for his family and friends hovering. The only time he felt safe was when one of the men were near him and ever since the night of the attack, he hadn't been alone except to go to the bathroom or take a shower. His brother was his constant companion and on the rare occasion that Dean was busy elsewhere, it was either John or Caleb who took his place, helping Sam with his physical therapy and generally keeping the boy in immediate presence and view. The only time Sam was out of sight of one or all of the three hunters was for the hour a day he spent with Pastor Jim in his office, talking about the nightmares he still suffered from.

Sam moved into the bedroom he shared with his brother and went to his dresser. He pulled out sleep pants and a tee shirt, watching Dean collapse onto his bed from the corner of his eye. Sam turned to his brother, sleep wear in hand and glanced down at the stretched out young man. "You don't have to babysit me, Dean. I'm sure you'd rather be downstairs with the others instead of up here on Sam watch," he said, though he truly wanted his brother near.

"Nah…those guys are old. They talk about old guy stuff too much. Besides, if I were down there, they'd make me peel potatoes or something. I'd much rather lie around up here while you get all pretty," Dean said as he slipped his hands under his head and crossed his ankles.

Sam shook his head and smirked down at his brother. He turned to the door and began to make his way out of the room. "Don't get that bandage wet! I don't want to have to redo it later," Dean called, the young man grinning when Sam waved at him over his shoulder.

As soon as Dean heard the bathroom door close, he rolled off of his bed and moved into the hall. He stood outside of the bathroom and listened as the shower turned on. His thoughts went to earlier when he and Sam were on the obstacle course and the fear he felt when Sam hit the ground. For an instant, until Sam pushed to his feet, he had the horrible feeling that his brother would never get up again. But, Sam had gotten up and he was okay, just a skinned chin and a bruised ego. Dean would never stop worrying about his little brother, but he had at least one less thing to keep him up at night, though he knew it would take a long time before he was able to go to bed and fall right off to sleep, the need to watch his brother's chest rise and fall and his feet move under the blankets keeping him up late into the night. It was a small price to pay to be able to finally sleep without the horrible nightmares that had plagued him since the night the vampire attacked.

Dean was brought out of his musings when the sound of Sam moving around behind the bathroom door reached his ears. He'd missed the shower turning off and cursed himself as he rushed back to he and Sam's bedroom and dropped back down onto his bed. He only had a few minutes to settle in and get his breathing under control before Sam reentered the room. Sam moved to his bed and dropped his clothes into the basket at the end of it. He smiled to himself as he listened to Dean's breathing then turned to look over his shoulder at the young man. He rolled his eyes then turned toward the door.

"You ready to go eat, bathroom stalker man?" Sam asked devilishly before darting out of the room, his brother right on his tail.

"I was right on that bed the whole time, you little sh*thead!" Dean shouted as he ran after his brother.

"So, what were you doing that had you breathing all hard then?" Sam called with a laugh as he reached the stairs and quickly made his way down toward the first floor of the small house.

"Sammy! Stop!" Dean called, the picture of Sam falling down the stairs flashing before his eyes as he rushed forward in a panic.

Dean came to the top of the steps and visibly sagged with relief when he saw his brother bounce off the bottom step and land safely on the ground floor. He rushed down the steps and followed Sam into the kitchen, the young man taking the seat next to his brother. John looked up from the seat on the other side of Sam and glanced at his two sons.

"So…what was all the ruckus about up there?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Dean was stalking me in the bathroom…" Sam started.

"I wasn't stalking you in the bathroom! I was in the bedroom taking a little snooze," Dean defended, his face flushing red.

"And taking a snooze leaves you out of breath and all sweaty?" Sam asked smugly.

"I…you…" Dean stammered.

"Look, Dean…either you were stalking me in the bathroom or you were doing embarrassing things in our bedroom, so…"

"Sam, that is not appropriate talk for the dinner table or…any place for that matter," Pastor Jim quipped with a gleam in his eye.

Sam glanced up through his too long bangs and smiled sheepishly. "'m sorry Jim," he said softly.

"So, Deano…which is it? Stalker or…" Caleb teased from across the table.

Dean glanced around the table then looked up at Pastor Jim. "Mmmmm…something smells good. What's for dinner, padre?" he asked, the rest of the group chuckling at his obvious attempt to change the subject.

Jim turned from the stove and glanced down at the young man. "We're having beef stew and cornbread," Jim replied, spoon in hand.

"Do you need help?" Sam asked as he began to push to his feet.

"Sit, boy. It's done," Jim said.

Jim lifted the large pot from the stove and carried it to the table. He set it in the center of the table then retrieved the cornbread and set it on the table along with a container of butter. He sat down in his seat next to Caleb then glanced around at his guests.

John rolled his eyes, but reached out and took Sam's hand on his right and Caleb's on his left. The rest of the hunters followed suit and waited for the holy man to say grace. Jim looked at Sam and smiled warmly. "Would you like to say grace tonight, Sam?" he asked pointedly.

Sam sucked in a breath and glanced around the table. "Uh…I'm not sure…" he started softly.

"Please, Sam. I would be honored to have you say grace," Jim said.

Sam smiled and bowed his head. "Lord Father in Heaven…we thank you for the food we are about to eat and for the blessings you have bestowed upon us. I thank you for my friends and family, for without their love and support I would not be sitting here today. I especially thank you for my brother who never gave up on me and never let me give up on myself. I ask that you keep us safe and continue to bless us with your loving care. I ask all this through Christ our Lord…Amen."

"Amen," the others said softly before releasing each others hands.

Dean glanced over at his brother, his eyes glistening with what looked suspiciously like tears. "Uh…Sam…that was…" he stammered.

Sam smiled and nudged his shoulder. "Dean, you don't need to say anything. Just eat," he said as he reached for a bowl.

Dean nodded and reached for his own bowl. The hunters ate their meal and talked about past hunts and future ones. They told jokes and laughed, the days victory lifting spirits to an all time high. Once dinner was finished, Sam and Dean cleared the dishes while Jim surprised the men with homemade apple pie for dessert. The pastor was just sitting back down when his eyes lit up. He pushed back from the table again and started toward the living room.

"I nearly forgot! Sam…you received a package while you were outside training," he said as he came around the table.

"What? I did? From who?" Sam asked with surprise.

"Well, I don't know. Let me just go get it and then you can see," Jim said with grin and hurried from the room.

Sam looked from his father to his brother, but neither man gave any kind of hint that they knew anything about the mysterious package. Sam swiveled his head when Jim returned a few moments later and placed a large sized, padded envelope before him on the table. Sam picked up the envelope and eyed it curiously.

"It's from Salem," he said softly as he looked over at his father. "Why would I be getting something from Salem? How would anyone there know where I am?"

"Why don't you open it and we'll find out," John said with a smile.

Sam bit at his bottom lip then quickly tore the envelope open. He reached in and pulled out the contents, they teen's eyes widening as he realized what he held. He ran his fingers over the words printed on the front of a magazine sized book, his lips moving as he silently read the words to himself. _'Sprague High School-Home of the Olympians' _he repeated in his head, his eyes moving to the smaller letters beneath. _'My Friends'_. He opened the book and fanned through it, finally stopping when he came to the pages intended for friend's notes and signatures. The page was filled with good wishes and doodles from all of the friends he had made while attending the high school.

Sam jerked his head toward his father and took in the wide, dimpled grin and twinkling brown eyes. "Don't look at me, this was Dean's idea," the Winchester patriarch said.

Sam turned to his brother, his eyes wide and questioning. "How did you…I don't…Dean, how did you do this?" he asked, his eyes suddenly filled with wonder.

Dean smiled and nudged his brother with his knee. "I know how much that book meant to you, Sammy. It was the first time you'd spent more than a month or so at a school and the first time you'd actually had time to make friends. Dad got ahold of Principal Tanner and explained that your friends book had been destroyed in freak fire. Principal Tanner got the book to Pete and he took it around to all of your friends. I gave Pete the address here so he could send it to you," Dean explained.

Sam turned to look at his father then turned back to Dean. "I don't know what to say. I…thank you. Thank you so much," he said, his voice shaky with emotion.

"You don't need to thank us, kiddo," John said, the man smiling as Sam returned his gaze to him. "You never should have been in the position to have felt you needed to burn your books. I'm just glad we were able to replace them all."

"This is so cool," Sam said, more to himself than to anyone else, as he ran his fingers over the comments his friends had left for him. "They're all here. All of them signed it for me."

Dean smiled as he pushed away from the table. "Why don't we go watch that movie we rented, twerp," he said, the young man turning away before anyone could see the wetness in his eyes.

Sam sat for a moment longer, his eyes perusing the words his friends had written. He finally stood and stepped back from the table. "Thanks, Dad," he said softly before picking up Dean's pie and leaving to join his brother.

"You're welcome, son," John replied, his dark eyes following his youngest out of the room.

John turned back toward his friends and heaved a heavy sigh. "We're going to be okay," he whispered happily before digging into his own piece of pie, the sudden sound of laughter coming from the living room filling his heart with joy.

* * *

**Another one down! So, what did you think? So many people commented on how nice it would be if they could replace Sam's friends book, so that is why I wrote that in. I know it's a bit of a copy of the previous chapter where John searches for the novels Sam lost, but I agreed with the comments about him getting his autograph book back, so there it is. I'll be starting to work on the next story sometime this week so I hope to maybe have a chapter ready to post in a few weeks or so. As I mentioned in the last chapter, it will be a Three Brothers story (yep...Danny!) and is a prequel to The Lost Son. Our boys are younger...Sam will be around 12, Dean 16 and Danny 17. I have it generally mapped out, but don't have a title yet. I'll work on it as much as I can so that I can get it posted as soon as possible. Thank you all so much! I love you all!**

**Cindy**


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